Ruth Fielding Homeward Bound, or, A Red Cross Worker's Ocean Perils

"And you once said, Heavy Stone, that you did not believe a poilu could love a fat girl " Helen said it in something like awe. While Ruth's tea-urn bubbled cozily three pair of very bright eyes were bent above a tiny, iridescent spark which adorned the "heart finger" of the plumper girl's left hand. There is something about an engagement diamond that makes it sparkle and twinkle more than any other diamond. You do not believe that? Wait until you wear one on the third finger of your left hand yourself These three girls, who owned all the rings and other jewelry that was good for them, continued to adore this newest of Jennie Stone's possessions until the tea water boiled over. Ruth Fielding arose with an exclamation of vexation, and corrected the height of the alcohol blaze and dropped in the "pinch" of tea. It was mid-afternoon, the hour when a cup of tea comforts the fagged nerves and inspires the waning spirit of womankind almost the world over. These three girls crowded into Ruth Fielding's little cell, even gave up the worship of the ring, to sip the tea which the hostess soon poured into the cups. "The cups are nicked; no wonder," sighed Ruth. "They have traveled many hundreds of miles with me, girls. Think I got them at Briarwood--" "Dear old Briarwood Hall," murmured Jennie Stone.