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diff --git a/36747-h/36747-h.htm b/36747-h/36747-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ecf2775 --- /dev/null +++ b/36747-h/36747-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9631 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" > +<head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> + <meta content="Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie" name="DC.Title"/> + <meta content="Alice B. Emerson" name="DC.Creator"/> + <meta content="en" name="DC.Language"/> + <meta content="1916" name="DC.Created"/> + <meta name="generator" content="ppgen (1.13) generated Jul 15, 2011 05:42 PM" /> + <title>Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h2 {text-align:left; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + h2 {font-size:1.2em; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:2em;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + .center {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; text-align:center;} + .larger {font-size:larger;} + .smaller {font-size:smaller;} + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + table.c {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + .caption {font-size: 80%;} + .sc {font-variant:small-caps} + div.center>:first-child {margin: .5em auto 0 auto;text-align:center;} + div.center p {margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;} + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie, by Alice B. Emerson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie + Great Times in the Land of Cotton + +Author: Alice B. Emerson + +Release Date: July 16, 2011 [EBook #36747] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank, David Edwards and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i001' id='i001'></a> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" alt="RUTH SECURED A GRIP ON THE BLACK MAN’S SLEEVE." title=""/><br /> +<span class='caption'>RUTH SECURED A GRIP ON THE BLACK MAN’S SLEEVE.</span> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>Ruth Fielding</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:1.4em;font-weight:bold;'>Down In Dixie</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>OR</p> +<p> </p> +<p>GREAT TIMES IN THE LAND OF COTTON</p> +<p> </p> +<p>BY</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>ALICE B. EMERSON</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Author of “Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,” “Ruth</span></p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>Fielding and the Gypsies,” Etc.</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p><em>ILLUSTRATED</em></p> +</div> +<div class='figcenter' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i002' id='i002'></a> +<img src='images/title.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>NEW YORK</span></p> +<p>CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY</p> +<p><span style='font-size:smaller;'>PUBLISHERS</span></p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p>Books for Girls</p> +<p>BY ALICE B. EMERSON</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>RUTH FIELDING SERIES</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='centered block'><tr><td> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Jasper Parloe’s Secret.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Solving the Campus Mystery.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Lost in the Backwoods.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Nita, the Girl Castaway.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Schoolgirls Among the Cowboys.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, The Old Hunter’s Treasure Box.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, What Became of the Raby Orphans.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, The Missing Pearl Necklace.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Helping the Dormitory Fund.</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'> </p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE</p> +<p style='margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0'>Or, Great Times in the Land of Cotton.</p> +</td></tr></table> +<div class='center'> +<p>Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York.</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Copyright, 1916, by</p> +<p>Cupples & Leon Company</p> +<p> </p> +<p><span class='sc'>Ruth Fielding Homeward Bound</span></p> +<p> </p> +<p>Printed in U. S. A.</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p><span style='font-size:larger;'>CONTENTS</span></p> +</div> +<table class='c' summary='table of contents'> +<tr><td style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</td><td></td><td style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>I.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chI'>1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>II.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Worm Turns</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chII'>12</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>III.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Boy in the Moonlight</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIII'>25</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Capes of Virginia</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIV'>33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>V.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Newspaper Account</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chV'>45</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>All in the Rain</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVI'>56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Miss Catalpa</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVII'>66</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Under the Umbrella</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chVIII'>73</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Sunshine at the Gatehouse</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chIX'>78</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>X.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>An Adventure in Norfolk</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chX'>86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>At the Merredith Plantation</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXI'>94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Boy at the Warehouse</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXII'>103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Ruth Is Troubled</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIII'>111</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Ruth Finds a Helper</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIV'>118</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Ride to Holloways</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXV'>123</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The “Hop”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVI'>135</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Flood Rises</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVII'>139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Across the River</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXVIII'>145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“If Aunt Rachel Were Only Here”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXIX'>151</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Curly Plays an Heroic Part</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXX'>159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Next Morning</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXI'>166</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Something for Curly</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXII'>174</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>“Here’s a State of Things!”</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIII'>182</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>The Chamber Concert</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXIV'>189</a></td></tr> +<tr><td valign='top' style='text-align:right; padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td><td valign='top' style='text-align:left; padding-right:3em;'><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Back Home</span></td><td valign='top' style='text-align:right;'><a href='#chXXV'>202</a></td></tr> +</table> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1'></a>1</span>Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie</h1> +<h2><a name='chI' id='chI'></a>CHAPTER I—A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING</h2> +<p> +“Isn’t that the oddest acting girl you ever saw, +Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! what a gawky thing!” agreed Ruth +Fielding, who was just getting out of the taxicab, +following her chum, Helen Cameron. +</p> +<p> +“And those white-stitched shoes!” gasped +Helen. “Much too small for her, I do believe!” +</p> +<p> +“How that skirt does hang!” exclaimed Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“She looks just as though she had slept in all +her clothes,” said Helen, giggling. “What do you +suppose is the matter with her, Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +“I’m sure I don’t know,” Ruth Fielding said. +“She’s going on this boat with us, I guess. Maybe +we can get acquainted with her,” and she laughed. +</p> +<p> +“Excuse <em>me</em>!” returned Helen. “I don’t think +I care to. Oh, look!” +</p> +<p> +The girl in question—who was odd looking, indeed—had +been paying the cabman who had +brought her to the head of the dock. The dock +was on West Street, New York City, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2'></a>2</span> +chums from Cheslow and the Red Mill had never +been in the metropolis before. So they were naturally +observant of everything and everybody +about them. +</p> +<p> +The strange girl, after paying her fare, started +to thrust her purse into the shabby handbag she +carried. Just then one of the colored porters hurried +forward and took up the suitcase that the girl +had set down on the ground at her feet when she +stepped from the cab. +</p> +<p> +“Right dis way, miss,” said the porter politely, +and started off with the suitcase. +</p> +<p> +“Hey! what are you doing?” demanded the +girl in a sharp and shrill voice; and she seized the +handle of the bag before the porter had taken +more than a step. +</p> +<p> +She grabbed it so savagely and gave it such a +determined jerk, that the porter was swung about +and almost thrown to the ground before he could +let go of the handle. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll ‘tend to my own bag,” said this vigorous +young person, and strode away down the dock, +leaving the porter amazed and the bystanders +much amused. +</p> +<p> +“My goodness!” gasped the negro, when he got +his breath. “Dat gal is as strong as a ox—sho’ is! +I nebber seed her like. <em>She</em> don’t need no he’p, +<em>she</em> don’t.” +</p> +<p> +“Let him take our bags—poor fellow,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3'></a>3</span> +Helen, turning around after paying their own +driver. “Wasn’t that girl rude?” +</p> +<p> +“Here,” said Ruth, laughing and extending her +light traveling bag to the disturbed porter, “you +may carry <em>our</em> bags to the boat. We’re not as +strong as that girl.” +</p> +<p> +“She sho’ was a strong one,” said the negro, +grinning. “I declar’ for’t, missy! I ain’ nebber +seed no lady so strong befo’.” +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t he delicious?” whispered Helen, pinching +Ruth’s arm as they followed the man down the +dock. “<em>He’s</em> no Northern negro. Why, he sounds +just as though we were as far as Virginia, at least, +already! Oh, my dear! our fun has begun.” +</p> +<p> +“I feel awfully important,” admitted Ruth. +“And I guess you do. Traveling alone all the way +from Cheslow to New York.” +</p> +<p> +“And this city <em>is</em> so big,” sighed Helen. “I +hope we can stop and see it when we come back +from the Land of Cotton.” +</p> +<p> +They were going aboard the boat that would +take them down the coast of New Jersey, Delaware, +Maryland and Virginia to the Capes of Virginia +and Old Point Comfort. There they were +to meet their Briarwood Hall schoolmate, Nettie +Parsons, and her aunt, Mrs. Rachel Parsons. +</p> +<p> +The girls and their guide passed a gang of stevedores +rushing the last of the freight aboard the +boat, their trucks making a prodigious rumbling. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4'></a>4</span> +</p> +<p> +They came to the passenger gangway along +which the porter led them aboard and to the purser’s +office. There he waited, clinging to the bags, +until the ship’s officer had looked at their tickets +and stateroom reservation, and handed them the +key. +</p> +<p> +“Lemme see dat, missy,” said the porter to +Ruth. “I done know dis boat like a book, I sho’ +does.” +</p> +<p> +“And, poor fellow, I don’t suppose he ever +looked inside a book,” whispered Helen. “Isn’t +he comical?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was afraid the porter would hear them +talking about him, so she fell back until the man +with the bags was some distance ahead. He was +leading them to the upper saloon deck. Their +reservation, which Tom Cameron, Helen’s twin +brother, had telegraphed for, called for an outside +stateroom, forward, on this upper deck—a pleasantly +situated room. +</p> +<p> +Tom could not come with his sister and her +chum, for he was going into the woods with some +of his school friends; but he was determined that +the girls should have good accommodations on +the steamboat to Old Point Comfort and Norfolk. +</p> +<p> +“And he’s just the best boy!” Ruth declared, +fumbling in her handbag as they viewed the cozy +stateroom. “Oh! here’s Mrs. Sadoc Smith’s letter.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5'></a>5</span> +</p> +<p> +Helen had tipped the grinning darkey royally +and he had shuffled out. She sat down now on +the edge of the lower berth. This was the first +time the chums had ever been aboard a boat for +over night, and the “close comforts” of a stateroom +were quite new to Helen and Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“What a dinky little washstand,” Helen said. +“Oh, my! Ruth, see the ice-water pitcher and +tumblers in the rack. Guess they expect the boat +to pitch a good deal. Do you suppose it will be +rough?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t know. Listen to this,” Ruth said shortly, +reading the letter which she had opened. “I only +had a chance to glance at Mrs. Smith’s letter before +we started. Just listen here: She says Curly +has got into trouble.” +</p> +<p> +“Curly?” cried Helen, suddenly interested. +“Never! What’s he done now?” +</p> +<p> +“I guess this isn’t any fun,” said Ruth, seriously. +“His grandmother is greatly disturbed. The constable +has been to the house looking for Curly +and threatens to arrest him.” +</p> +<p> +“The poor boy!” exclaimed Helen. “I knew +he was an awful cut-up——” +</p> +<p> +“But there never was an ounce of meanness in +Henry Smith!” Ruth declared, quite excited. “I +don’t believe it can be as bad as she thinks.” +</p> +<p> +“His grandmother has always been so strict with +him,” said Helen. “You know how she treated +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6'></a>6</span> +him while we were lodging with her when the new +West Dormitory at Briarwood was being built.” +</p> +<p> +“I remember very clearly,” agreed Ruth. “And, +after all, Curly wasn’t such a bad fellow. Mrs. +Smith says he threatens to run away. <em>That</em> would +be awful.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! I believe I’d run away myself,” +said Helen, “if I had anybody who nagged me as +Mrs. Sadoc Smith does Henry.” +</p> +<p> +“And she doesn’t mean to. Only she doesn’t +like boys—nor understand them,” Ruth said, as +she folded the letter with a sigh. “Poor Curly!” +</p> +<p> +“Come on! let’s get out on deck and see them +start. I do just long to see the wonderful New +York skyline that everybody talks about.” +</p> +<p> +“And the tall buildings that we couldn’t see +from the taxicab window,” added Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Who’s going to keep the key?” demanded +Helen, as Ruth locked the stateroom door. +</p> +<p> +“<em>I</em> am. You’re not to be trusted, young lady,” +laughed Ruth. “Where’s your handbag?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—I left it inside.” +</p> +<p> +“With all that money in it? Smart girl! And +the window blind is not locked. The rules say +never to leave the room without locking the window +or the blind.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll fix <em>that</em>,” declared Helen, and reached in +to slide the blind shut. They heard the catch snap +and were satisfied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7'></a>7</span> +</p> +<p> +As they went through the passage from the +outer deck to the saloon they saw a figure stalking +ahead of them which made Helen all but cry out. +</p> +<p> +“I see her,” Ruth whispered. “It’s the same +girl.” +</p> +<p> +“And she’s going into that stateroom,” added +Helen, as the person unlocked the door of an inside +room. +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to see her face,” Ruth said, smiling. +“I see she has curly hair, and I believe it’s short.” +</p> +<p> +“We’ll look her up after the steamboat gets off. +Her room is number forty-eight,” Helen said. +“Come on, dear! Feel the jar of the engines? +They must be casting off the hawsers.” +</p> +<p> +The girls went up another flight of broad, polished +stairs and came out upon the hurricane deck. +They were above the roof of the dock and could +look down upon it and see the people bidding their +friends on the boat good-bye while the vessel +backed out into the stream. The starting was +conducted with such precision that they heard few +orders given, and only once did the engine-room +gong clang excitedly. +</p> +<p> +The steamer soon swung its stern upstream, +and the bow came around, clearing the end of the +pier next below, and so heading down the North +River. Certain tugboats and wide ferries tooted +their defiance at the ocean-going craft, for the +vessel on which Ruth and Helen were traveling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8'></a>8</span> +was one of the largest coast-wise steamers sailing +out of the port. +</p> +<p> +It was a lovely afternoon toward the close of +June. The city had been as hot as a roasting pan, +Helen said; but on the high deck the breeze, +breathed from the Jersey hills, lifted the damp +locks from the girls’ brows. A soft mist crowned +the Palisades. The sun, already descending, drew +another veil before his face as he dropped behind +the Orange Mountains, his red rays glistening +splendidly upon the towers and domes of lower +Broadway. +</p> +<p> +They passed the Battery in a few minutes, with +the round, pot-bellied aquarium and the immigration +offices. The upper bay was crowded with +craft of all kind. The Staten Island ferries drummed +back and forth, the perky little ferryboat to +Ellis Island and the tugboat to the Statue of Liberty +crossed their path. In their wake the small +craft dipped in the swell of the propeller’s turmoil. +</p> +<p> +The Statue of Liberty herself stood tall and +stately in the afternoon sunlight, holding her green, +bronze torch aloft. The girls could not look at +this monument without being impressed by its +stateliness and noble features. +</p> +<p> +“And we’ve read about it, and thought so much +about this present of Miss Picolet’s nation to ours! +It is very wonderful,” Ruth said. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9'></a>9</span> +</p> +<p> +“And that fort! See it?” cried Helen, pointing +to Governor’s Island on the other bow. “Oh, and +see, Ruth! that great, rusty, iron steamship anchored +out yonder. She must be a great, sea-going +tramp.” +</p> +<p> +Every half minute there was something new for +the chums to exclaim over. +</p> +<p> +In fifteen minutes they were passing through the +Narrows. The two girls were staring back at +Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island, when a petty +officer above on the lookout post hailed the bridge +amidships. +</p> +<p> +“Launch coming up, sir. Port, astern.” +</p> +<p> +There was a sudden rush of those passengers +in the bows who heard to the port side. “Oh, +come on. Let’s see!” cried Helen, and away the +two girls went with the crowd. +</p> +<p> +The perky little launch shoved up close to the +side of the tall steamer. It flew a pennant which +the girls did not understand; but some gentleman +near them said laughingly: +</p> +<p> +“That is a police launch. I guess we’re all arrested. +See! they’re coming aboard.” +</p> +<p> +The steamer did not slow down at all; but one +of the men in the bow of the pitching launch threw +a line with a hook on the end of it, and this fastened +itself over the rail of the lower deck. By +leaning over the rail above Ruth and Helen could +see all that went on below. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10'></a>10</span> +</p> +<p> +In a moment deckhands caught the line and +hauled up with it a rope ladder. This swung perilously—so +the girls thought—over the green-and-white +leaping waves. +</p> +<p> +A man started up the swinging ladder. The +steamer dipped ever so little and he scrambled +faster to keep out of the water’s reach. +</p> +<p> +“The waves act just like hungry wolves, or like +dogs, leaping after their prey,” said Ruth reflectively. +“See them! They almost caught his legs +that time.” +</p> +<p> +Another man started up the ladder the moment +the first one had swarmed over the rail. Then +another came, and a fourth. Four men in all +boarded the still fast-moving steamer. Everybody +was talking eagerly about it, and nobody knew +what it meant. +</p> +<p> +These men were surely not passengers who had +been belated, for the launch still remained attached +to the steamer. +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen went back into the saloon. +There they saw their smiling porter, now in the +neat black dress of a waiter, bustling about. “Any +little t’ing I kin do fo’ yo’, missy?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“No, thank you,” Ruth replied, smiling. But +Helen burst out with: “Do tell us what those men +have come aboard for?” +</p> +<p> +“Dem men from de <em>po</em>-lice launch?” inquired +the black man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes. What are they after? Are they police?” +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as’m. Dem’s <em>po</em>-lice,” said the darkey, +rolling his eyes. “Dey tell me dey is wantin’ a boy +wot’s been stealin’—an’ he’s done got girl’s clo’es +on, missy.” +</p> +<p> +“A boy in girl’s clothing?” gasped Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“‘A wolf in sheep’s clothing!’” laughed her +chum. +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as indeedy, missy. Das wot dey say.” +</p> +<p> +“Are they <em>sure</em> he came aboard this boat?” +asked Ruth anxiously. +</p> +<p> +“Sho is, missy. Dey done trailed him right to +de dock. Das wot de head steward heard ’em +say. De taxicab man remembered him—he acted +so funny in dem girl’s clo’es—he, he, he! Das one +silly trick, das wot <em>dat</em> is,” chuckled the darkey. +“No boy gwine t’ look like his sister in her clo’es—no, +indeedy.” +</p> +<p> +But Ruth and Helen were now staring at each +other with the same thought in their minds. “Oh, +Helen!” murmured Ruth. And, “Oh, Ruth!” +responded Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Ought we to tell?” pursued Helen, putting all +the burden of deciding the question on her chum +as usual. “It’s that very strange looking girl we +saw going into number forty-eight; isn’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“It is most certainly that person,” agreed Ruth +positively. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span><a name='chII' id='chII'></a>CHAPTER II—THE WORM TURNS</h2> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was plentifully supplied with +good sense. Under ordinary circumstances she +would not have tried to shield any person who was +a fugitive from justice. +</p> +<p> +But in this case there seemed to her no reason +for Helen and her to volunteer information—especially +when such information as they might give +was based on so infirm a foundation. They had +seen an odd looking girl disappear into one of the +staterooms. They had really nothing more than a +baseless conclusion to back up the assertion that +the individual in question was disguised, or was the +boy wanted by the police. +</p> +<p> +Of course, whatever Ruth said was best, and +Helen would agree to it. The latter had learned +long since that her chum was gifted with judgment +beyond her years, and if she followed Ruth Fielding’s +lead she would not go far wrong. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, Helen began to admire her chum soon +after Ruth first appeared at Jabez Potter’s Red +Mill, on the banks of the Lumano, near which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +Helen’s father had built his all-year-around home. +Ruth had come to the old Red Mill as a “charity +child.” At least, that is what miserly Jabez Potter +considered her. Nor was he chary at first of saying +that he had taken his grand-niece in because +there was no one else to whom she could go. +</p> +<p> +Young as she then was, Ruth felt her position +keenly. Had it not been for Aunt Alvirah (who +was nobody’s relative, but everybody’s aunt), +whom the miller had likewise “taken in out of +charity” to keep house for him and save the wages +of a housekeeper, Ruth would never have been +able to stay at the Red Mill. Her uncle’s harshness +and penurious ways mortified the girl, and +troubled her greatly as time went on. +</p> +<p> +Ruth succeeded in finding her uncle’s cashbox +that had been stolen from him at the time a freshet +carried away a part of the old mill. These introductory +adventures are told in the initial volume of +the series, called: “Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill; +or, Jacob Parloe’s Secret.” +</p> +<p> +Because he felt himself in Ruth’s debt, her Uncle +Jabez agreed to pay for her first year’s tuition and +support at a girls’ boarding school to which Mr. +Cameron was sending Helen. Helen was Ruth’s +dearest friend, and the chums, in the second volume, +“Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall,” entered +school life hand in hand, making friends and rivals +alike, and having adventures galore. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +</p> +<p> +The third volume took Ruth and her friends to +Snow Camp, a winter lodge in the Adirondack +wilderness. The fourth tells of their summer adventures +at Lighthouse Point on the Atlantic +Coast. The fifth book deals with the exciting +times the girls and their boy friends had with the +cowboys at Silver Ranch, out in Montana. The +sixth story is about Cliff Island and its really wonderful +caves, and what was hidden in them. Number +seven relates the adventures of a “safe and +sane” Fourth of July at Sunrise Farm and the rescue +of the Raby orphans. While “Ruth Fielding +and the Gypsies,” the eighth volume of the series, +relates a very important episode in Ruth’s career; +for by restoring a valuable necklace to an aunt of +one of her school friends she obtains a reward of +five thousand dollars. +</p> +<p> +This money, placed to Ruth’s credit in the bank +by Mr. Cameron, made the girl of the Red Mill +instantly independent of Uncle Jabez, who had so +often complained of the expense Ruth was to him. +Much to Aunt Alvirah’s sorrow, Uncle Jabez became +more exacting and penurious when Ruth’s +school expenses ceased to trouble him. +</p> +<p> +“I could almost a-wish, my pretty, that you +hadn’t got all o’ that money, for Jabez Potter was +l’arnin’ to let go of a dollar without a-squeezin’ all +the tail feathers off the eagle that’s onto it,” said +the rheumatic, little, old woman. “Oh, my back! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +and oh, my bones! It’s nice for you to have your +own livin’ pervided for, Ruthie. But it’s awful for +Jabez Potter to get so selfish and miserly again.” +</p> +<p> +Aunt Alvirah had said this to the girl of the +Red Mill just before Ruth started for Briarwood +Hall at the opening of her final term at that famous +school. In the story immediately preceding +the present narrative, “Ruth Fielding in Moving +Pictures; Or, Helping the Dormitory Fund,” Ruth +and her school chums were much engaged in that +modern wonder, the making of “movie” films. +Ruth herself had written a short scenario and had +had it accepted by Mr. Hammond, president of the +Alectrion Film Corporation, when one of the +school dormitories was burned. To help increase +the fund for a new structure, the girls all desired +to raise as much money as possible. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was inspired to write a second scenario—a +five-reel drama of schoolgirl life—and Mr. +Hammond produced it for the benefit of the Hall. +“The Heart of a Schoolgirl” made a big hit and +brought Ruth no little fame in her small world. +</p> +<p> +With Helen and the other girls who had been +so close to her during her boarding school life, +Ruth Fielding had now graduated from Briarwood +Hall. Nettie Parsons and her Aunt Rachel had +invited the girl of the Red Mill and Helen Cameron +to go South for a few weeks following their +graduation; and the two chums were now on their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +way to meet Mrs. Rachel Parsons and Nettie at +Old Point Comfort. And from this place their +trip into Dixie would really begin. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had stated positively her belief that the +odd looking girl they had seen going into the stateroom +numbered forty-eight was the disguised boy +the police were after. But belief is not conviction, +after all. They had no proof of the identity of +the person in question. +</p> +<p> +“So, why should we interfere?” said Ruth, +quietly. “We don’t know the circumstances. Perhaps +he’s only accused.” +</p> +<p> +“I wish we could have seen his face,” said +Helen. “I’d like to know what kind of looking +girl he made. Remember when Curly Smith +dressed up in Ann Hick’s old frock and hat that +time?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Ruth, smiling. “But Curly looks +like a girl when he’s dressed that way. If his +hair were long and he learned to walk better——” +</p> +<p> +“That girl we saw going into the stateroom was +about Curly’s size,” said Helen reflectively. +</p> +<p> +“Poor Curly!” said Ruth. “I hope he is not in +any serious trouble. It would really break his +grandmother’s heart if he went wrong.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose she does love him,” observed Helen. +“But she is so awfully strict with him that I wonder +the boy doesn’t run away again. He did when +he was a little kiddie, you know.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Ruth, smiling. “His famous revolt +against kilts and long curls. You couldn’t really +blame him.” +</p> +<p> +However, the girls were not particularly interested +in the fate of Henry Smith just then. They +did not wish to lose any of the sights outside, and +were just returning to the open deck when they +saw a group of men hurrying through the saloon +toward the bows. With the group Ruth and +Helen recognized the purser who had viséd their +tickets. One or two of the other men, though in +citizen’s dress, were unmistakably policemen. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s the room,” said the purser, stopping +suddenly, and referring to the list he carried. “I +remember the person well. I couldn’t say he didn’t +look like a young girl; but she—or he—was peculiar +looking. Ah! the door’s locked.” +</p> +<p> +He rattled the knob. Then he knocked. Helen +seized Ruth’s hand. “Oh, see!” she cried. “It +is forty-eight.” +</p> +<p> +“I see it is. Poor fellow,” murmured Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“If she <em>is</em> a fellow.” +</p> +<p> +“And what will happen if he is a girl?” laughed +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Won’t she be mad!” cried Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Or terribly embarrassed,” Ruth added. +</p> +<p> +“Here,” said one of the police officers, “he may +be in there. By your lief, Purser,” and he suddenly +put his knee against the door below the lock, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +pressed with all his force, and the door gave way +with a splintering of wood and metal. +</p> +<p> +The officer plunged into the room, his comrades +right behind him. Quite a party of spectators had +gathered in the saloon to watch. But there was +nobody in the stateroom. +</p> +<p> +“The bird’s flown, Jim,” said one policeman to +another. +</p> +<p> +“Hullo!” said the purser. “What’s that in +the berth?” +</p> +<p> +He picked up a dress, skirt, and hat. Ruth and +Helen remembered that they were like those that +the strange looking girl had worn. One of the +policemen dived under the berth and brought forth +a pair of high, fancy, laced shoes. +</p> +<p> +“He’s dumped his disguise here,” growled an +officer. “Either he went ashore before the boat +sailed, or he’s in his proper clothes again. Say! +it would take us all night, Jim, to search this +steamer.” +</p> +<p> +“And we’re not authorized to go to the Capes +with her,” said the policeman who had been addressed +as Jim. “We’d better go back and report, +and let the inspector telegraph to Old Point a full +description. Maybe the dicks there can nab the +lad.” +</p> +<p> +The stateroom door was closed but could not +be locked again. The purser and policemen went +away, and the girls ran out on deck to see the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span> +police officers go down the ladder and into the +launch. +</p> +<p> +They all did this without accident. Then the +rope ladder was cast off and the launch chugged +away, turning back toward the distant city. +</p> +<p> +The steamer had now passed Romer Light and +Sandy Hook and was through the Ambrose Channel. +The Scotland Lightship, courtesying to the +rising swell, was just ahead. Ruth and Helen had +never seen a lightship before and they were much +interested in this drab, odd looking, short-masted +vessel on which a crew lived month after month, +and year after year, with only short respites +ashore. +</p> +<p> +“I should think it would be dreadfully lonely,” +Helen said, with reflection. “Just to tend the +lights—and the fish, perhaps—eh?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t suppose they have dances or have people +come to afternoon tea,” giggled Ruth. “What +do you expect?” +</p> +<p> +“Poor men! And no ladies around. Unless +they have mermaids visit them,” and Helen chuckled +too. “Wouldn’t it be fun to hire a nice big +launch—a whole party of us Briarwood girls, for +instance—and sail out there and go aboard that +lightship? Wouldn’t the crew be surprised to see +us?” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe,” said Ruth seriously, “they wouldn’t +let us aboard. Maybe it’s against the rules. Or +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span> +perhaps they only select men who are misanthropes, +or women-haters, to tend lightships.” +</p> +<p> +“<em>Are</em> there such things as women-haters?” demanded +Helen, big-eyed and innocent looking. “I +thought <em>they</em> were fabled creatures—like—like +mermaids, for instance.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! Do you think, Helen Cameron, +that every man you meet is going to fall on his +knees to you?” +</p> +<p> +“No-o,” confessed Helen. “That is, not unless +I push him a little, weeny bit! And that reminds +me, Ruthie. You ought to see the great bunch of +roses Tom had the gardener cut yesterday to send +to some girl. Oh, a barrel of ’em!” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed?” asked Ruth, a faint flush coming into +her cheek. “Has Tom a crush on a new girl? I +thought that Hazel Gray, the movie queen, had +his full and complete attention?” +</p> +<p> +“How you talk!” cried Helen. “I suppose Tom +will have a dozen flames before he settles +down——” +</p> +<p> +Ruth suddenly burst into laughter. She knew +she had been foolish for a moment. +</p> +<p> +“What nonsense to talk so about a boy in a military +school!” she cried. “Why! he’s only a boy +yet.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I know,” sighed Helen, speaking of her +twin reflectively. “He’s merely a child. Isn’t it +funny how much older we are than Tom is?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span> +</p> +<p> +“Goodness me!” gasped Ruth, suddenly seizing +her chum by the arm. +</p> +<p> +“O-o-o! ouch!” responded Helen. “What a +grip you’ve got, Ruth! What’s the matter with +you?” +</p> +<p> +“See there!” whispered Ruth, pointing. +</p> +<p> +She had turned from the rail. Behind them, and +only a few feet away, was the row of staterooms +of which their own was one. Near by was a passage +from the outer deck to the saloon, and from +the doorway of this passage a person was peeping +in a sly and doubtful way. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” whispered Helen. “Can—can it +be?” +</p> +<p> +The figure in the doorway was lean and tall. +Its gown hung about its frame as shapelessly as +though the frock had been hung upon a clothespole! +The face of the person was turned from +the two girls; but Ruth whispered: +</p> +<p> +“It’s that boy they were looking for.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth! Can it be possible?” Helen repeated. +</p> +<p> +“See the short hair?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” +</p> +<p> +The Unknown had turned swiftly and disappeared +into the passage. “Come on!” cried Helen. +“Let’s see where he goes to.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was nothing loath. Although she would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +not have told anybody of their discovery, she was +very curious. If the disguised boy had left his +first disguise in stateroom forty-eight, he had +doubly misled his pursuers, for he was still in +women’s clothing. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me!” whispered Helen, as the two +girls crowded into the doorway, each eager to be +first. “I feel just like a regular detective.” +</p> +<p> +“How do you know how a regular detective +feels?” demanded Ruth, giggling. “Those detectives +who came aboard just now did not look as +though they felt very comfortable. And one of +them chewed tobacco!” +</p> +<p> +“Horrors!” cried Helen. “Then I feel like the +detective of fiction. I am sure <em>he</em> never chews +tobacco.” +</p> +<p> +“There! there she is!” breathed Ruth, stopping +at the exit of the passage where they could see a +good portion of the saloon. +</p> +<p> +“Come on! we mustn’t lose sight of her,” said +Helen, with determination. +</p> +<p> +The awkward figure of the supposedly disguised +boy was marching up the saloon and the girls +almost ran to catch up with it. +</p> +<p> +“Do you suppose he will <em>dare</em> go to room forty-eight +again?” whispered Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“And like enough they are watching that room.” +</p> +<p> +“Well—see there!” +</p> +<p> +The person they were following suddenly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +wheeled around and saw them. Ruth and Helen +were so startled that they stopped, too, and stared +in return. The face of the person in which they +were so interested was a rather grim and unpleasant +face. The cheeks were hollow, the short hair +hung low on the forehead and reached only to the +collar of the jacket behind. There were two deep +wrinkles in the forehead over the high arched +nose. Although the person had on no spectacles, +the girls were positive that the eyes that peered at +them were near-sighted. +</p> +<p> +“Why we should refer to her as <em>she</em>, when without +doubt she is a <em>he</em>, I do not know,” said Helen, +in a whisper, to Ruth. +</p> +<p> +The Unknown suddenly walked past them +and sought a seat on one of the divans. The +girls sat near, where they could keep watch of her, +and they discussed quite seriously what they should +do. +</p> +<p> +“I wish I could hear its voice,” whispered Ruth. +“Then we might tell something more about it.” +</p> +<p> +“But we heard him speak on the dock—don’t +you remember?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes! when he almost knocked that poor +colored man down.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. And his voice was just a squeal then,” +said Helen. “He tried to disguise it, of course.” +</p> +<p> +“While now,” added Ruth, chuckling, “he is as +silent as the Sphinx.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +</p> +<p> +The stranger was busy, just the same. A shabby +handbag had been opened and several pamphlets +and folders brought forth. The near-sighted eyes +were made to squint nervously into first one of +these folders and then another, and finally there +were several laid out upon the seat about the Unknown. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly the Unknown looked up and caught +the two chums staring frankly in the direction of +“his, her, or its” seat. Red flamed into the sallow +cheeks, and gathering up the folders hastily, the +person crammed them into the bag and then +started up to make her way aft. But Ruth had +already seen the impoliteness of their actions. +</p> +<p> +“Do let us go away, Helen,” she said. “We +have no right to stare so.” +</p> +<p> +She drew Helen down the saloon on the starboard +side; it seems that the Unknown stalked +down the saloon on the other. The chums and +the strange individual rounded the built-up stairwell +of the saloon at the same moment and came +face to face again. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I want to know!” exclaimed the Unknown +suddenly, in a viperish voice. “What do +you girls mean? Are you following me around +this boat? And what for, I’d like to know?” +</p> +<p> +“There!” murmured Ruth, with a sigh. “The +worm has turned. We’re in for it, Helen—and +we deserve it!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span><a name='chIII' id='chIII'></a>CHAPTER III—THE BOY IN THE MOONLIGHT</h2> +<p> +A mistake could scarcely be made in the sex of +the comical looking individual at whom the chums +had been led to stare so boldly, when once they +heard the voice. That shrill, sharp tone could +never have come from a male throat. Now, too, +the Unknown drew a pair of spectacles from her +bag, adjusted them, and glared at Ruth and Helen. +</p> +<p> +“I want to know,” repeated the woman sternly, +“what you mean by following me around this +boat?” +</p> +<p> +The chums were tongue-tied in their embarrassment +for the moment, but Helen managed to blurt +out: “We—we didn’t know——” +</p> +<p> +She was on the verge of making a bad matter +worse, by saying that they didn’t know the lady +was a lady! But Ruth broke in with: +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I beg your pardon, I am sure. We did +not mean to offend you. Won’t you forgive us, if +you think we were rude? I am sure we did not +intend to be.” +</p> +<p> +It would have been hard for most people to resist Ruth’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +mildness and her pleading smile. This +person with the spectacles and the short hair was +not moved by the girl of the Red Mill at all. Later +Ruth and Helen understood why not. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t want any more of your impudence!” +the stern woman said. “Go away and leave me +alone. I’d like to have the training of all such +girls as you. <em>I’d</em> teach you what’s what!” +</p> +<p> +“And I believe she would,” gasped Helen, as +she and Ruth almost ran back up to the saloon deck +again. “Goodness! she is worse than Miss +Brokaw ever thought of being—and we thought +<em>her</em> pretty sharp at times.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder what and who the woman is,” Ruth +murmured. “I am glad she is nobody whom I +have to know.” +</p> +<p> +“Hope we have seen the last of the hateful old +thing!” +</p> +<p> +But they had not. As the girls walked forward +through the saloon and approached the spot where +they had sat watching the mysterious woman with +the short hair and the shorter temper, a youth got +up from one of the seats and strolled out upon the +deck ahead of them. Ruth started, and turned +to look at Helen. +</p> +<p> +“My dear!” she said. “Did you see <em>that</em>?” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t point out any other mysteries to me—please!” +cried Helen. “We’ll get into a worse +pickle.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +</p> +<p> +“But did you see that boy?” insisted Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“No. I’m not looking for boys.” +</p> +<p> +“Neither am I,” Ruth returned. “But I could +not help seeing how much that one resembled +Curly Smith.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me! You certainly have Henry Smith +on the brain,” cried Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I can’t help thinking of the poor boy. +I hope we shall hear from his grandmother again. +I am going to write and mail the letter just as +soon as we reach Old Point Comfort.” +</p> +<p> +The girls had walked slowly on, past the seat +where the odd looking woman whom they had +watched had sat down to examine the contents of +her handbag. There were few other passengers +about, for as the evening closed in almost everybody +had sought the open deck. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, from behind them, came a sound +which seemed to be a cross between a steam whistle +gone mad and the clucking of an excited hen. +Ruth and Helen turned in amazement and saw the +lank, mannish figure of the strange woman flying +up the saloon. +</p> +<p> +“Stop them! Come back! My ticket!” were +the words which finally became coherent as the +strange individual reached the vicinity of the girl +chums. An officer who was passing through happened +to be right beside the two girls when the +excited woman reached them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span> +</p> +<p> +She apparently had the intention of seizing hold +upon Ruth and Helen, and the friends, startled, +shrank back. The ship’s officer promptly stepped +in between the girls and the excited person with +the short hair. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a moment, madam,” he said sharply. +“What is it all about?” +</p> +<p> +“My ticket!” cried the short-haired woman, +glaring through her spectacles at Ruth and Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Your ticket?” said the officer. “What about +it?” +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t there!” and she pointed tragically to +the seat on which she had previously rested. +</p> +<p> +“Did you leave it there?” queried the officer, +guessing at the reason for her excitement. +</p> +<p> +“I just did, sir!” snapped the stern woman. +</p> +<p> +“Your ticket for your trip to Norfolk?” +</p> +<p> +“No, it isn’t. It’s my ticket for my railroad trip +from Norfolk to Charleston. I had it folded in +one of those Southern Railroad Company’s folders. +And now it isn’t in my bag.” +</p> +<p> +“Well?” said the officer calmly. “I apprehend +that you left the folder on this seat—or think +you did?” +</p> +<p> +“I know I did,” declared the excited woman. +“Those girls were following me around in a most +impudent way; and they were right here when I +got up and forgot that folder.” +</p> +<p> +“The inference being, then,” went on the officer, “that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +they took the folder and the ticket?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, sir, I am convinced they did just that,” +declared the woman, glaring at the horrified Ruth +and Helen. +</p> +<p> +Said the latter, angrily: “Why, the mean old +thing! Who ever heard the like?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I know girls through and through!” +snapped the strange woman. “I should think I +ought to by this time—after fifteen years of dealing +with the minxes. I could see that those two +were sly and untrustworthy, the instant I saw +them.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” exclaimed Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Nasty cat!” muttered Helen. +</p> +<p> +The officer was not greatly impressed. “Have +you any real evidence connecting these young ladies +with the loss of your ticket?” he asked. +</p> +<p> +“I say it’s stolen!” cried the sharp-voiced one. +</p> +<p> +“And it may, instead, have been picked up, +folder and all, by a quite different party. Perhaps +the purser already has your lost ticket——” +</p> +<p> +At that moment the purser himself appeared, +coming up the saloon. Behind him were two of +the under stewards burdened with magnificent +bunches of roses. A soft voice appealed at Ruth’s +elbow: +</p> +<p> +“If missy jes’ let me take her stateroom key, +den all dem roses be ‘ranged in dar mos’ skillful—ya-as’m; +mos’ skillful.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why! did you ever!” gasped Helen, amazed. +</p> +<p> +“Those are never for <em>us</em>?” cried Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“You are Miss Cameron?” asked the smiling +purser of Ruth’s chum. “These flowers came at +the last moment by express for you and your +friend. In getting under way they were overlooked; +but the head stewardess opened the box +and rearranged the roses, and I am sure they have +not been hurt. Here is the card—Mr. Thomas +Cameron’s compliments.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, the dear!” cried Helen, clasping her +hands. +</p> +<p> +“<em>Those</em> were the roses you thought he sent to +Hazel Gray,” whispered Ruth sharply. +</p> +<p> +“So they are!” cried Helen. “What a dunce I +was. Of course, old Tom would not forget us. +He’s a good, good boy!” +</p> +<p> +She ran ahead to the stateroom. Ruth turned +to see what had happened to the woman who +thought they had taken her railroad ticket. The +deck officer had turned her over to the purser and +it was evident that the latter was in for an unpleasant +quarter of an hour. +</p> +<p> +The roses seemed fairly to fill the stateroom, +there were so many of them. The girls preferred +to arrange them themselves; so the three porters +left after having been tipped. +</p> +<p> +The chums opened the blind again so that they +could look out across the water at the Jersey shore. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span> +Sandy Hook was now far behind them. Long +Branch and the neighboring seaside resorts were +likewise passed. +</p> +<p> +The girls watched the shore with its ever varying +scenes until past six o’clock and many of the +passengers had gone into the dining saloon. Ruth +and Helen finally went, too. They saw nothing +of the unpleasant woman whose ire had been so +roused against them; but after they came up from +dinner, and the orchestra was playing, and the +Brigantine Buoy was just off the port bow, the +girls saw somebody else who began to interest +them deeply. +</p> +<p> +The moon was coming up, and its silvery rays +whitened everything upon deck. The girls sat +for a while in the open stern deck watching the +water and the lights. It was very beautiful indeed. +</p> +<p> +It was Helen who first noticed the figure near, +with his back to them and with his head upon the +arm that rested on the steamer’s rail. She nudged +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“See him?” she whispered. “That’s the boy +who you said looked like Henry Smith. See his +curly hair?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Helen!” gasped Ruth, a thought stabbing +her suddenly. “Suppose it is?” +</p> +<p> +“Suppose it is what?” +</p> +<p> +“Suppose it <em>should</em> be Curly whom the police +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +were after? You know, that dressed-up boy—if it +was he we saw on the dock—had curly hair.” +</p> +<p> +“So he had! I forgot that when we were trailing +that queer old maid,” chuckled Helen. +</p> +<p> +“This is no laughing matter, dear,” whispered +Ruth, watching the curly-haired boy closely. +“Having gotten rid of his disguise, there was no +reason why that boy should not stay aboard the +steamboat.” +</p> +<p> +“No; I suppose not,” admitted Helen, rather +puzzled. +</p> +<p> +“And if it is Curly—” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, goodness me! we don’t even know that +Henry Smith has run away!” exclaimed Helen. +</p> +<p> +Instantly the boy near them started. He rose +and clung to the rail for a moment. But he did +not look back at the two girls. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had clutched Helen’s arm and whispered: +“Hush!” She was not sure whether the boy had +heard or not. At any rate, he did not look at +them, but walked slowly away. They did not see +his face at all. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span><a name='chIV' id='chIV'></a>CHAPTER IV—THE CAPES OF VIRGINIA</h2> +<p> +Ruth and Helen did not think of going to bed +until long after Absecon Light, off Atlantic City, +was passed. They watched the long-spread lights +of the great seaside resort until they disappeared +in the distance and Ludlum Beach Light twinkled +in the west. +</p> +<p> +The music of the orchestra came to their ears +faintly; but above all was the murmur and jar of +the powerful machinery that drove the ship. This +had become a monotone that rather got on the +girls’ nerves. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! let’s go to bed,” said Helen plaintively. +“I <em>don’t</em> see why those engines have to +pound so. It sounds like the tramping of a herd +of elephants.” +</p> +<p> +“Did you ever hear a herd of elephants tramping?” +asked Ruth, laughing. +</p> +<p> +“No; but I can imagine how they would sound,” +said Helen. “At any rate, let’s go to bed.” +</p> +<p> +They did not see the curly-haired boy; but as +they went in to the ladies’ lavatory on their side +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +of the deck, they came face to face with the queer +woman with whom they had already had some +trouble. +</p> +<p> +She glared at the two girls so viperishly that +Helen would never have had the courage to accost +her. Not so Ruth. She ignored the angry +gaze of the lady and said: +</p> +<p> +“I hope you have found your ticket, ma’am?” +</p> +<p> +“No, I haven’t found it—and you know right +well I haven’t,” declared the short-haired woman. +</p> +<p> +“Surely, you do not believe that my friend and +I took it?” Ruth said, flushing a little, yet holding +her ground. “We would have no reason for +doing such a thing, I assure you.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know what you did it for!” exclaimed +the woman harshly. “With all my experience +with you and your kind I have never yet been +able to foretell what a rattlepated schoolgirl will +do, or her reason for doing it.” +</p> +<p> +“I am sorry if your experience has been so unfortunate +with schoolgirls,” Ruth said. “But +please do not class my friend and me with those +you know—who you intimate would steal. We +did not take your ticket, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, goody!” exclaimed Helen, under her +breath. +</p> +<p> +The woman tossed her head and her pale, blue +eyes seemed to emit sparks. “You can’t tell me! +You can’t tell me!” she declared. “I know you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +girls. You’ve made me trouble enough, I should +hope. I would believe anything of you—<em>any</em>thing!” +</p> +<p> +“Do come away, Ruth,” whispered Helen; and +Ruth seeing that there was no use talking with +such a set and vindictive person, complied. +</p> +<p> +“But we don’t want her going about the boat +and telling people that we stole her ticket,” Ruth +said, with indignation. “How will that sound? +Some persons may believe her.” +</p> +<p> +“How are you going to stop her?” Helen demanded. +“Muzzle her?” +</p> +<p> +“That might not be a bad plan,” Ruth said, +beginning to smile again. “Oh! but she <em>did</em> make +me so angry!” +</p> +<p> +“I noticed that for once our mild Ruth quite +lost her temper,” Helen said, delightedly giggling. +“Did me good to hear you stand up to her.” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder who she is and what sort of girls +she teaches—for of course she <em>is</em> a teacher,” said +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“In a reform school, I should think,” Helen +said. “Her opinion of schoolgirls is something +awful. It’s worse than Miss Brokaw’s.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you suppose that fifteen years of teaching +can make any woman hate girls as she certainly +does?” Ruth said reflectively. “There must be +something really wrong with her—” +</p> +<p> +“There’s something wrong with her looks, that’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +sure,” Helen agreed. “She is the dowdiest thing +I ever saw.” +</p> +<p> +“Her way of dressing has nothing to do with it. +It is the hateful temper she shows. I am afraid +that poor woman has had a very hard time with +her pupils.” +</p> +<p> +“There you go!” cried Helen. “Beginning to +pity her! I thought you would not be sensible for +long. Oh, Ruthie Fielding! you would find an +excuse for a man’s murdering his wife and seven +children.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, I suppose so,” Ruth said. “Of course, he +would have to be insane to do it.” +</p> +<p> +They returned to their stateroom. It was somewhat +ghostly, Helen thought, along the narrow +deck now. Ruth fumbled at the lock for some +time. +</p> +<p> +“Are you sure you have the right room?” Helen +whispered. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve got the right room, for I know the number; +but I’m not sure about the key,” giggled Ruth. +“Oh! here it opens.” +</p> +<p> +They went in. Ruth remembered where the +electric light bulb was and snapped on the light. +“There! isn’t this cozy?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“‘Snug as a bug in a rug,’” quoted Helen. +“Goodness! how sharp your elbow is, dear!” +</p> +<p> +“And that was my foot you stepped on,” complained +Ruth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span> +</p> +<p> +“I believe we’ll have to take turns undressing,” +Helen said. “One stay outside on the deck till +the other gets into bed.” +</p> +<p> +“And we’ve got to draw lots for the upper berth. +What a climb!” +</p> +<p> +“It makes me awfully dizzy to look down from +high places,” giggled Helen. “I don’t believe I’d +dare to climb into that upper berth.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, Miss Cameron!” cried Ruth, with mock +sternness. “We’ll settle this thing at once. No +cheating. Here are two matches——” +</p> +<p> +“Matches! Where did you get matches?” +</p> +<p> +“Out of my bag. In this tiny box. I have +never traveled without matches since the time we +girls were lost in the snow up in the woods that +time. Remember?” +</p> +<p> +“I should say I do remember our adventures +at Snow Camp,” sighed Helen. “But I never +would have remembered to carry matches, just the +same.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, I break the head off this one. Do you +see? One is now shorter than the other. I put +them together—<em>so</em>. Now I hide them in my hand. +You pull one, Helen. If you pull the longer one +you get the lower berth.” +</p> +<p> +“I get something else, too, don’t I?” said Helen. +</p> +<p> +“What?” +</p> +<p> +“The match!” laughed the other girl. “There! +Oh, dear me! it’s the short one.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that’s too bad, dear,” cried Ruth, at once +sympathetic. “If you really dread getting into +the upper berth——” +</p> +<p> +“Be still, you foolish thing!” cried Helen, hugging +her. “If we were going to the guillotine and +I drew first place, you’d offer to have your dear +little neck chopped first. I know you.” +</p> +<p> +The next moment Helen began on something +else. “Oh, me! oh, my! what a pair of little geese +we are, Ruthie.” +</p> +<p> +“What about?” demanded her chum. +</p> +<p> +“Why! see this button in the wall? And we +were scrambling all over the place for the electric +light bulb. Can’t we punch it on?” and she tried +the button tentatively. +</p> +<p> +“Now you’ve done it!” groaned Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Done what?” demanded Helen in alarm. “I +guess that hasn’t anything to do with the electric +lights. Is it the fire alarm?” +</p> +<p> +“No. But it costs money every time you punch +that button. You are as silly as poor, little, flaxen-haired +Amy Gregg was when she came to Briarwood +Hall and did not know how to manipulate +the electric light buttons.” +</p> +<p> +“But what have I <em>done</em>?” demanded Helen. +“Why will it cost me money?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth calmly reached down the ice-water pitcher +from its rack. “You’ll know in a minute,” she +said. “There! hear it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +</p> +<p> +A faint tinkling approached. It came along +the deck outside and Helen pushed back the blind +a little way to look out. Immediately a soft, +drawling voice spoke. +</p> +<p> +“D’jew ring fo’ ice-water, missy? I got it +right yere.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth already had found a dime and she thrust +it out with the pitcher. It was their own particular +“colored gemmen,” as Helen gigglingly called him. +She dodged back out of sight, for she had removed +her shirtwaist. He filled the pitcher and went +tinkling away along the deck with a pleasant, “I +‘ank ye, missy. Goo’ night.” +</p> +<p> +“I declare!” cried Helen. “He’s one of the +genii or a bottle imp. He appears just when you +want him, performs his work, and silently disappears.” +</p> +<p> +“That man will be rich before we get to Old +Point Comfort,” sighed Ruth, who was of a +frugal disposition. +</p> +<p> +They closed the blind again, and a little later +the lamp on the deck outside was extinguished. +The girls had said their prayers, and now Helen, +with much hilarity, “shinnied up” to the berth +above, kicking her night slippers off as she plunged +into it. +</p> +<p> +“Good-bye—if I don’t see you again,” she said +plaintively. “You may have to call the fire department +with their ladders, to get me down.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +</p> +<p> +Ruth snapped off the light, and then registered +her getting into bed by a bump on her head against +the lower edge of the upper berth. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my, Helen! You have the best of it after +all. Oh, how that hurt!” +</p> +<p> +“M-m-m-m!” from Helen. So quickly was she +asleep! +</p> +<p> +But Ruth could not go immediately to Dreamland. +There had been too much of an exciting +nature happening. +</p> +<p> +She lay and thought of Curly Smith, and of the +disguised boy, and of the obnoxious school teacher +who had accused her and Helen of robbing her. +The odor of Tom’s roses finally became so oppressive +that she got up to open the blind again for +more air. She again struck her head. It was impossible +to remember that berth edge every time +she got up and down. +</p> +<p> +As she stepped lightly upon the floor in her +bare feet she heard a stealthy footstep outside. +It brought Ruth to an immediate halt, her hand +stretched out toward the blind. Through the +interstices of the blind she could see that the white +moonlight flooded the deck. Stealthily she drew +back the blind and peered out. +</p> +<p> +The person on the deck had halted almost opposite +the window. Ruth knew now that the +steamer must be well across the Five Fathom +Bank, with the Delaware Lightship behind them +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +and the Fenwick Lightship not far ahead. To +the west was the wide entrance to Delaware Bay, +and the land was now as far away from them as +it would be at any time during the trip. +</p> +<p> +She peered out quietly. There stood the curly-haired +boy again, leaning on the rail, and looking +wistfully off to the distant shore. +</p> +<p> +Was it Henry Smith? Was he the boy who +had come aboard the boat in girl’s clothes? And +if so, what would he do when the boat docked at +Old Point Comfort and the detectives appeared? +They would probably have a good description of +the boy wanted, and could pick him out of the +crowd going ashore. +</p> +<p> +Ruth was almost tempted to speak to the boy—to +whisper to him. Had she been sure it was Curly +she would have done so, for she knew him so +well. But, as before, his face was turned away +from her. +</p> +<p> +He moved on, and Ruth softly slid back the +blind and stole to bed again, for the third time +bumping her head. “My! if this keeps on, I’ll be +all lumps and hollows like an outline map of the +Rocky Mountains,” she whimpered, and then cuddled +down under the sheet and lay looking out of +the open window. +</p> +<p> +The sea air blew softly in and cooled her flushed +cheeks. The odor of the roses was not so oppressive, +and after a time she dropped to sleep. When +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +she awoke it was because of the change in the +temperature some time before dawn. The moon +was gone; but there was a faint light upon the +water. +</p> +<p> +Helen moved in the berth above. “Hullo, up +there!” whispered Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Hullo, down there!” was the quick reply. +“What ever made me wake up so early?” +</p> +<p> +“Because you want to get up early,” replied +Ruth, this time sliding out of her berth so adroitly +that she did <em>not</em> bump her head. +</p> +<p> +Helen came tumbling down, skinning her elbow +and landing with a thump on the floor. “Gracious +to goodness—and all hands around!” she ejaculated. +“Talk about sleeping on a shelf in a Pullman +car! Why, that’s ‘Home Sweet Home’ to +<em>this</em>. I came near to breaking my neck.” +</p> +<p> +“Come on! scramble into your clothes,” said +Ruth, already at the wash basin. +</p> +<p> +Helen peered out. “Why—oh, my!” she said, +shivering and holding the lacy neck of her gown +about her. “It’s da-ark yet. It must be midnight.” +</p> +<p> +“It is ten minutes to four o’clock,” said Ruth +promptly. She had studied the route and knew it +exactly. “That is Chincoteague Island Light yonder. +That’s where those cunning little ponies that +Madge Steele’s father had at Sunrise Farm came +from.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +</p> +<p> +“Wha-at?” yawned Helen. “Did they come +from the light?” +</p> +<p> +“No, goosy! from the island. They are bred +there.” +</p> +<p> +Ten minutes later the chums were out on the +open deck. They raced forward to see if they +could see the sun. His face was still below the +sea, but a flush along the edge of the horizon announced +his coming. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, see yonder!” cried Helen. “See the shore! +How near! And the long line of beaches. What’s +that white line outside the yellow sand?” +</p> +<p> +“The surf,” Ruth said. “And that must be Hog +Island Light. How faint it is. The sun is putting +it out.” +</p> +<p> +“It’s a long way ahead.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. We won’t pass that till almost six +o’clock. Oh, Helen! there comes the sun.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Helen, suddenly seizing +her chum’s wrist. “Did you hear it?” +</p> +<p> +“That splash? The men are washing decks.” +</p> +<p> +“It is a man overboard!” murmured Helen. +</p> +<p> +“More likely a big fish jumping,” said the practical +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +The girls hung over the rail, looking shoreward, +and tried in the uncertain light to see if +there was any object floating on the water. If +Helen expected to see a black spot like the head +of a swimmer, she was disappointed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +</p> +<p> +But she did see—and so did Ruth—a lazy fishing +smack drifting by on the tide. They could +almost have thrown a stone aboard of her. +</p> +<p> +There seemed to be a little excitement aboard +the smack. Men ran to and fro and leaned over +the rail. Then the girls thought they saw the +smackmen spear something, or possibly somebody, +with a boathook and haul their prize aboard. +</p> +<p> +“I believe somebody did fall overboard from +this steamer, and those fishermen have picked him +up,” Helen declared. +</p> +<p> +The girls watched the sunrise and the shore line +for another hour or more and then went in to +breakfast. When they came back to the open +deck the steamer was flying past the coast of the +lower Peninsula, and Cape Charles Lightship +courtesied to her on the swells. +</p> +<p> +Far, far in the distance they saw the staff of +the Cape Henry Light. The steamer soon turned +her prow to pass between these two points of land, +known to seamen as the Capes of Virginia, which +mark the entrance to Chesapeake Bay. +</p> +<p> +Their fair trip down the coast from New York +was almost ended and the chums began to pick up +their things in the stateroom and repack their +bags. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span><a name='chV' id='chV'></a>CHAPTER V—THE NEWSPAPER ACCOUNT</h2> +<p> +“Do you suppose Nettie and her aunt have arrived, +Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +“I really don’t,” Ruth Fielding said, as she and +her chum stood on the upper deck again and +watched the shore which they were approaching +so rapidly. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! won’t you feel funny going up to +that big, sprawling hotel alone?” +</p> +<p> +“No, dear. I sha’n’t be alone,” laughed Ruth. +“You will be with me, won’t you?” +</p> +<p> +Helen merely pinched her for answer. +</p> +<p> +“The rooms are engaged for us, you know,” +Ruth assured her chum. “Mrs. Parsons knew she +might be delayed by business in Washington and +that we would possibly reach the hotel first. They +have our names and all we have to do is to present +her card.” +</p> +<p> +“Fine! I leave it all to you,” agreed Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Of course you will. You always do,” said +Ruth drily. “You certainly are one of the fortunate +ones in this world, Helen, dear.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +</p> +<p> +“How am I?” +</p> +<p> +“Because,” Ruth said, laughing, “all you ever +will do in any emergency will be to roll those pretty +eyes of yours and look helpless, and <em>somebody</em> +will come to your rescue.” +</p> +<p> +“Lucky me, then!” sighed her friend. “How +green the grass is on the shore, Ruth—and how +blue the water. Isn’t this one lovely morning?” +</p> +<p> +“And a beautiful place we are going to. That’s +the fort yonder—the largest in the United States, +I shouldn’t wonder.” +</p> +<p> +As the steamer drew in closer to the dock those +passengers who were not going on to Norfolk got +their hand baggage together and pressed toward +the forward lower deck, from which they would +land at the Point. The girls followed suit; but as +they came out of their stateroom there was the +omnipresent colored man, in his porter’s uniform +now, ready to take the bags. +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen let him take the bags, though +they were very well able to carry them, for he was +insistent. The stewardess—a comfortable looking +old “aunty” in starched cap and apron—was +likewise bobbing courtesies to them as they went +through the saloon. Helen’s ready purse drew +the colored population of that boat as a honey-pot +does bees. +</p> +<p> +As they descended to the lower deck, suddenly +the queer looking school teacher, with the short +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +hair and funny clothes, faced them. The purser +had evidently been trying to pacify her, but now he +gave it up. +</p> +<p> +“You mean to tell me that you won’t demand +to have these girls examined—<em>searched</em>?” cried +the angry woman. “They may have taken my +ticket for fun, but it’s a serious matter and they +are now afraid to give it up. I know ’em—root +and branch!” +</p> +<p> +“Do you <em>know</em> these two young ladies?” demanded +the purser, in surprise. +</p> +<p> +“Yes; I know their kind. I have been teaching +girls just like ’em for fifteen years. They’re up +to all kinds of mischief.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, madam!” cried the purser, “that is strong +language. I cannot hold these young ladies on +your say-so. You have no evidence. Nor do I +believe they have your ticket in their possession.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course you’d take their side!” sniffed the +woman. +</p> +<p> +“I am on the side of innocence always. If you +care to get into trouble by speaking to the police, +you will probably find two policemen waiting on +the dock as we go ashore. They are after that +disguised boy who came aboard.” +</p> +<p> +The woman tossed her head and strode away, +after glaring again at the embarrassed girls. The +purser said, gently: +</p> +<p> +“I am very sorry, young ladies, that you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span> +been annoyed by that person. And I am glad that +you did not let the offence make <em>us</em> any more +trouble. Of course, she had no right to speak of +you and to you as she has. +</p> +<p> +“I believe she is to be pitied, however. I learn +that she is going on a trip South for her health, +after a particularly arduous year’s work. She is, +as she intimates, a teacher in a big girl’s boarding +school in New England. She is probably not a +favorite with her pupils at best, and is now undoubtedly +broken down nervously and not quite responsible +for what she says and does.” +</p> +<p> +Then the purser continued, smiling: “Perhaps +you can imagine that her pupils have not tried to +make her life pleasant. I have a daughter about +your age who goes to such a school, and I know +from her that sometimes the girls are rather +thoughtless of an instructor’s comfort—if they +dislike her.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, that is true enough, I expect,” Ruth admitted. +“See how they used to treat little Picolet!” +she added to Helen. +</p> +<p> +“I guess <em>no</em> girl would fall in love with this horrid +creature who says we stole her ticket.” +</p> +<p> +“She is not of a lovable disposition, that is +sure,” agreed the purser. “Her name is Miss +Miggs. I hope you will not see her again.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! you don’t suppose she will try to make +trouble for us ashore?” Ruth cried. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +</p> +<p> +“I will see that she does not. I will speak to +the officers who I expect are awaiting the boat’s +arrival. They have already communicated with +us by wireless about that boy.” +</p> +<p> +“Wireless!” cried Helen. “And we didn’t know +you had it aboard. I certainly would have thanked +Tom for those roses. And then, Ruth! Just +think of telegraphing by wireless!” +</p> +<p> +“Sorry you missed that, young ladies. The instrument +is in Room Seventy,” said the purser, +bustling away. +</p> +<p> +“‘Too late! too late! the villain cried!’” murmured +Helen. “We missed that.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said Ruth, smiling. “If we go +back to New York by boat we can hang around the +wireless telegraph room all the time and you can +send messages to all your friends.” +</p> +<p> +“No I can’t,” said Helen shortly. +</p> +<p> +“Why not?” +</p> +<p> +“Because I won’t have any money left by that +time,” Helen declared ruefully. “Goodness! how +much it does cost to travel.” +</p> +<p> +“It does, I guess, if you practise such generosity +as you have practised,” said Ruth. “Do use a +little judgment, Helen. You tip recklessly, and +you buy everything you see.” +</p> +<p> +“No,” declared her chum. “There’s one thing +I’ve seen that I wouldn’t buy if it was selling as +cheap as ‘two bits,’ as these folks say down here.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” asked Ruth, with a laugh. +</p> +<p> +“That old maid school marm from New England,” +Helen replied promptly. +</p> +<p> +“Poor thing!” commented Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“There you go! Pitying her already! How +do you know that she won’t try to have us arrested?” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! we’ll hope not,” said Ruth, as they +surged toward the gangway with the rest of the +disembarking passengers, the boat having already +docked. +</p> +<p> +The crowd came out into the sunshine of a perfect +morning upon a bustling dock. There was a +goodly crowd from the hotels to see the newcomers +land. Some of the passengers were met by +friends; but neither Nettie Parsons nor her aunt +were in sight. +</p> +<p> +The porter who carried the girls’ bags, however, +handed them over to a hotel porter and evidently +said a good word for them to that functionary; +for he was very attentive and led the +chums out of the crowd toward the broad veranda +of the hotel front. +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen had sharp eyes, and they saw +two plain-clothes men standing by to watch the +forthcoming passengers. +</p> +<p> +“The officers looking for that boy,” whispered +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! do you suppose he <em>was</em> Curly?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. I must write to Mrs. Smith +as soon as we get to the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +The chums had traveled considerably by land, +and had ventured into more than one hotel; but +never alone. When they had gone to Montana +to visit Ann Hicks, Ann’s Uncle Bill had been +with them and had looked after the transportation +matters. And in going into the Adirondacks they +had traveled in a private car. +</p> +<p> +The porter took them immediately to a reception +parlor, and took Mrs. Parson’s card that she +had given Ruth to the hotel manager. The manager +came himself to greet the girls. Mrs. Parsons’ +name was evidently well known at this hotel. +</p> +<p> +“At this time of year there is a choice of rooms +at your disposal,” he said. “I will show you the +suite Mrs. Parsons usually has; but if the rooms +assigned you are not satisfactory, we can accommodate +you elsewhere.” +</p> +<p> +As they went up to the rooms Helen whispered: +“Don’t you feel kind of <em>bridey</em>?” +</p> +<p> +“Kind of what?” gasped her chum. +</p> +<p> +“Why, as though you were on your bridal +tour?” said Helen. “We’ve got on brand new +clothes, and everybody treats us as though we were +queens.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe you feel that you are a queen,” giggled +Ruth. “But not me. If you are a bride, +Helen Cameron, where is the gloom?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +</p> +<p> +“Gloom?” repeated Helen. “Do you mean +<em>groom</em>?” +</p> +<p> +“Not in your case,” sniffed Ruth. “He will +be a ‘gloom’ all right, the way you make the money +fly. See how you tipped that fellow below just +now. He’s standing in a trance, looking at that +dollar yet.” +</p> +<p> +“I—I didn’t have anything smaller,” confessed +the culprit. +</p> +<p> +“Well, you ought to have had change.” +</p> +<p> +“My! do you want me to do as the old lady said +she did when going to church? She always carried +some buttons in her purse, for then, if she +had run out of change, when the contribution box +was passed she’d still have something to drop in.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth went off into a gale of laughter. “I wonder +how that darkey would have looked if you +had contributed a button to him.” +</p> +<p> +The manager here threw open a door which +gave entrance upon two big rooms, with a bathroom +between, the windows opening upon a balcony. +To the girls it seemed a most delightful +place—so high and airy—and such a view! +</p> +<p> +“Oh, this will be lovely,” Ruth assured him. +“And are Mrs. Parsons’ rooms yonder?” +</p> +<p> +“Right through that door,” replied the man. +“There are the buttons. Ring for any attendance +you may need. If everything is not perfectly satisfactory, +young ladies, let me know.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +</p> +<p> +He bowed himself out. Helen performed several +stately steps about the first room. “I tell +you, my dear, we are very important. Nettie’s +Aunt Rachel is a <em>dear</em>! Or are all people down +here in Dixie as polite as this person with the side +whiskers?” +</p> +<p> +“Why! I think people are kind to us almost +everywhere,” said Ruth, laying off her hat and +coat. +</p> +<p> +“What shall we do first?” asked Helen. +</p> +<p> +“I told you. I am going right down to the +ladies’ writing room—I saw it as we came through +the lower floor—and write to Mrs. Smith. If +Curly <em>did</em> run away, we know where he is.” +</p> +<p> +“Do we?” asked Helen, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Why—I——Well, he was aboard that +steamer, I am sure,” Ruth said. +</p> +<p> +“Is he now?” asked Helen. “I believe he went +overboard and was picked up by that fishing boat.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! do you really believe so?” +</p> +<p> +“I am quite positive that the disguised boy did +just that,” said Helen, nodding her dark head +confidently. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I can tell Mrs. Smith nothing about that; +it would only scare her. But I want her to write +to me as soon as she can and tell me if Curly is +at home. Poor boy! what ever would become of +him if he ran away?” +</p> +<p> +“And with the police after him!” Helen added. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span> +“I am sure he never committed any real crime.” +</p> +<p> +“So am I sure. But he was always playing jokes +and was up to all kinds of mischief. He was bound +to get into trouble,” Ruth said, with a sigh. +“Everybody around there disliked him so.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth went downstairs and easily found the +writing room. Outside was a periodical and newspaper +stand. The New York morning papers +had just arrived and Ruth bought one before she +entered the writing room. Before beginning the +letter to Mrs. Sadoc Smith, she opened the paper +and almost the first brief article she noticed was +the following: +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“A police launch followed the New Union S.S. +<em>Pocahontas</em> yesterday afternoon as far as the Narrows, +and plain-clothes men James Morrisy, B. +Phelps, Schwartz and Rockheimer, boarded her to +search for a boy from up-state who has created +a stir in the vicinity of Lumberton. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“It is reported that Henry Smith, fifteen years +old, tall for his age, curly, chestnut hair, small +features, especially girlish face, is accused of helping +a pair of tramps rob the Lumberton railroad +station. The tramps escaped on a hand-car with +their booty. The local police went after Henry, +who lives with his grandmother, Mrs. Sadoc +Smith, his only relative, an eminently respectable +woman. Henry locked himself in his room, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +while his grandmother was urging him to come out +and give himself up to the police, he slid out of +the window and over the shed roof, dropping to +the ground—the old path to the circus grounds +and the bright and early Independence Day celebration. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“Henry Smith left home with some money and +a new pair of boots. The boots and his other male +attire he seems to have exchanged for female garb +at a hotel in Albany. Henry masquerades as a +girl very effectively, it is said. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“The Albany police were just too late in reaching +the hotel, but later had reason to know that +Henry had come on to New York by train. Detective +Morrisy and his squad missed the fugitive at +the Grand Central Terminal. Through the good +offices of a taxicab driver, Henry was traced to +the New Union pier, where he was supposed to +have boarded the <em>Pocahontas</em>. +</p> +<p style='margin-left: 2em;margin-right: 2em;'> +“The detectives, however, did not find Henry +Smith thereon, neither in female garb nor in his +proper habiliments. The police at Old Point +Comfort and Norfolk have been notified to watch +for the boy. His grandmother, Mrs. Sadoc Smith, +declares she will disinherit her grandson.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span><a name='chVI' id='chVI'></a>CHAPTER VI—ALL IN THE RAIN</h2> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was so much disturbed over +the story of Curly Smith’s escapade that she had +to run and show the paper to Helen before she +did anything else. And then the chums had to +talk it all over, and exclaim over the boy’s boldness, +and the odd fact that <em>they</em> should have seen +him in his girl’s apparel, and not have known him. +</p> +<p> +“After seeing him dressed up in Ann’s old dress +that time, too,” sighed Helen. “The foolish +boy!” +</p> +<p> +“But only think of his dropping off that shed +roof. Do you know, Helen, it is twenty feet from +the ground?” +</p> +<p> +“That reporter writes as though he thought it +were a joke,” Helen said. “Mean thing!” +</p> +<p> +“He never saw that shed,” said Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“It is fortunate poor Curly didn’t break his +neck.” +</p> +<p> +“And his grandmother says she will disinherit +him. That’s really cruel! I dare not tell her what +I think when I write,” Ruth said. “But I will tell +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span> +her how Curly is being hounded by the police, and +that he jumped overboard.” +</p> +<p> +“Sure he did! He’s an awfully brave boy,” +Helen declared. +</p> +<p> +“I’m not sure that he’s to be praised for that +kind of bravery. It was a perilous chance he took. +I wonder where he will go—what he will do? +Goodness! what a boy!” +</p> +<p> +“He’s all right,” urged Helen, with admiration. +“I don’t believe the police will ever catch him.” +</p> +<p> +“But what will become of him?” +</p> +<p> +“If we come across him again, we’ll help him,” +said Helen, with confidence. +</p> +<p> +“That’s not likely. I can’t even tell Mrs. Smith +where he has gone. We don’t know.” +</p> +<p> +“Let’s go out and make sure that he wasn’t +taken by the police here, or at Norfolk.” +</p> +<p> +“How will you find out?” +</p> +<p> +“At the dock. Somebody will know.” +</p> +<p> +“You go. I’ll write to Mrs. Smith. Don’t get +lost,” said Ruth, drawing paper and envelopes +toward her and preparing to write the missive. +</p> +<p> +It was growing dark before Ruth finished the +letter—and that should not have been, for it was +not yet noon! She looked up and then ran to the +window. A storm cloud was sweeping down the +bay and off across Hampton Roads. Over in Norfolk +it was raining—a sharp shower. But it did +not look as though it would hit the Point. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +</p> +<p> +While Ruth was looking out Helen came running +into the writing room, greatly excited. “Oh, +come on, Ruthie!” she cried. “I’ve got a man who +will take us for a drive all around the Point and +around the fortress.” +</p> +<p> +“In what?” asked Ruth, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Well, I’d call it a barouche. It’s an old thing; +but he’s such a nice, old darkey, and——” +</p> +<p> +“How much have you already paid him, my +dear?” asked Ruth, interrupting. +</p> +<p> +“Well—I——Oh! don’t be so inquisitive!” +</p> +<p> +“And I thought you went to inquire whether +they had arrested that boy?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! didn’t I tell you?” said Helen. “They +didn’t get him. Neither here nor at Norfolk. I +asked the man on the dock. Then this nice, old +colored man in <em>such</em> a funny livery, asked me to +ride with him. He’s been driving white folks +around here, he says, ever since the war.” +</p> +<p> +“What war? The War with Spain?” asked +Ruth, tartly. “I begin to believe that there must +be some sign on you, my dear, which tells these +fellows that you have money and can be easily +parted from it.” +</p> +<p> +“Now, Ruthie——” +</p> +<p> +“That is true. Well! we’ll get our hats——” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t need anything of the kind. Or wraps, +either. It’s lovely out.” +</p> +<p> +“But that black cloud?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean, Ruthie? My hack +driver?” giggled Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense, you naughty child! That thunder +storm.” +</p> +<p> +“The driver says it won’t come over here. Let’s +go.” +</p> +<p> +“All right,” Ruth finally said. “I know you +have already paid him and we must get some return +for your money.” +</p> +<p> +“What a terribly saving creature you are,” +scoffed Helen. “I begin to believe that you have +caught Uncle Jabez’s disease, living with him there +in the Red Mill. There! Oh, Ruth! I didn’t +mean that. I wouldn’t hurt your feelings for anything.” +</p> +<p> +But she had effectually closed Ruth’s lips upon +the subject of the waste of money. Her chum’s +countenance was rather serious as they went out +upon the great veranda, which had a sweep wider +than the face of the Capitol at Washington. Below +them was a decrepit old carriage, drawn by a +horse, the harness of which was repaired in more +than one place with rope. The smart equipages +made this ramshackle old vehicle look older than +Noah’s Ark at Briarwood Hall. +</p> +<p> +Helen was enormously amused by the looks of +the old rattletrap and the funny appearance of the +driver. The latter was an aged negro with a gray +poll and gaps in his teeth when he grinned. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +wore a tall hat such as the White House coachman +is pictured as wearing in Lincoln’s day. The long-tailed +coat he wore had once been blue, but was +now faded to a distinct maroon shade, saving a +patch on the small of his back which had retained +much of its original color by being sheltered +against the seat-back. +</p> +<p> +The vest and trousers this nondescript wore +were coarse white duck, but starched and ironed, +and as white as the snow. The least said about +his shoes the better, and a glimpse Ruth had of +one brown shank, as the old man got creakingly +down to politely open the barouche door for them, +assured her that he wore no hose at all. +</p> +<p> +“Do get in,” giggled Helen. “Did you ever see +such a funny old thing?” +</p> +<p> +“It looks as if it would fall to pieces,” objected +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“He assures me it won’t. I don’t care if everybody +<em>is</em> laughing at us.” +</p> +<p> +“Neither do I. But I believe it is going to +rain.” +</p> +<p> +“Nothing more than a little shower, if any,” +Helen said, and popped into the carriage. Ruth, +rather doubtful still, followed her. Amid a good +deal of amusement on the part of the company on +the verandas, the rattling equipage rolled away. +</p> +<p> +They rode along the edge of the fortress moat +and past the officer’s quarters, and so around the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span> +entire fortress and across the reservation into the +country. The old man sat very stiff and upright +in his seat, flourished his whip over his old horse +in a grand manner, and altogether made as brave +an appearance as possible. +</p> +<p> +The knock-kneed horse dragged its feet over +the highway with a shuffle that made Ruth nervous. +She liked a good horse. This one moved so +slowly, and the turnout was altogether so ridiculous, +that Ruth did not know whether to join Helen +in laughing at it, or get out and walk back. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, however, a drizzle of rain began to +fall. It was not unexpected, for the clouds were +still black and a chill breeze had blown up. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll have to go back, Uncle,” cried Helen to +the driver. +</p> +<p> +“Wait a minute—wait a minute,” urged the old +man. “Ah’ll git right down an’ fix dat hood. +Dat’ll shelter yo’ till we gits back t’ de hotel—ya-as’m.” +</p> +<p> +“You should not have encouraged us to come +out with you when it was sure to rain,” said Ruth, +rather tartly for her. +</p> +<p> +“Sho’ ‘nuff, missy—sho’ ‘nuff,” cackled the old +darkey. “But ’twas a great temptation.” +</p> +<p> +“What was a great temptation?” +</p> +<p> +“To earn a dollar. Dollars come skeerce like +nowadays, for Unc’ Simmy. He kyan’t keep up +wid dese yere taxum-cabs an’ de rich folks’ smart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +conveyances—no’m!” and the old negro chuckled +as though poverty, too, were a humorous thing. +</p> +<p> +He began to fuss with the hood of the carriage, +which was supposed to pull up and shelter the +occupants. But it would not “stay put,” as Helen +laughingly said, and the summer shower began to +patter harder on the unprotected girls. +</p> +<p> +“You’d better not mind it, Mr. Simmy,” Helen +said, “and drive us back at once. We’re bound to +get wet anyway.” +</p> +<p> +“Dey calls me <em>Unc’</em> Simmy, missy—ma frien’s +do,” said the old man, rheumatically climbing to +his seat again. “An’ Ah ain’t gwine t’ drib yo’ +back to de hotel in de face ob dishyer shower, an’ +git all yo’ fin’ry wet. No’m! Yo’ leab’ Unc’ +Simmy ‘lone fo’ a-gittin’ yo’ to shelter ’twill de +storm passes ober.” +</p> +<p> +He touched up the old horse with the whiplash, +and the creature really broke into a knock-kneed +trot, Unc’ Simmy meanwhile singing a broken accompaniment +to the shuffling pace of his steed: +</p> +<p> + “‘On Jor-dy-an’s sto’my bank I stand<br /> + An’ cas’ a wishful eye<br /> + T’ Can-ny-an’s bright an’ glo-ree-ous land—<br /> + Ma’ ho-o-me ’twill be, bymeby!’<br /> +</p> +<p> +Dis ain’ gwine t’ be much ob a shower, missy. We +turns in yere.“ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +</p> +<p> +They had passed several smart looking dwellings—villas +they might better be called—and more +than one old, Southern house with high pillars in +front and an air of decayed gentility about them. +</p> +<p> +Unc’ Simmy swung his steed through a ruined +gateway where the Virginia creeper and honeysuckle +hid the gateposts and wall. There was a +small wooden structure like a gate-keeper’s cottage, +much out of repair. The shingles on the +roof had curled in the hot sun’s rays till they resembled +clutching fingers; some of the siding-strips +in the peak, far out of ordinary reach, hung and +flapped by one nail; some bricks were missing from +the chimney-top; the house had not been painted +for at least two decades. The porch on the front +was sheltered by climbing vines, and there were +many old-fashioned flowers in neatly kept beds +before the little house. But the girls did not see +much of the front of the cottage just then, for the +old horse went by and up the lane at a clumsy +gallop. The rain was coming down faster. +</p> +<p> +“Where for pity’s sake is he taking us?” Ruth +demanded. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t care—it’s fun,” gasped Helen, cowering +before the rain drops. +</p> +<p> +Behind the cottage was a small barn—evidently +built much more recently than the house. The +wide door was swung open and hooked back and +Unc’ Simmy drove inside. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span> +</p> +<p> +“Dar we is!” he cried exultantly. “Ah’ll jes’ +take yo’ all in t’ visit wid’ Miss Catalpa while Ah +fixes dishyer kerrige so it’ll take yo’ back to de +P’int dry—ya-as’m.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Miss Catalpa,’ no less!” murmured Helen +in Ruth’s ear. “<em>That</em> sounds like a real darkey +name, doesn’t it? I wonder if she’s an old aunty—or +mammy, do they call them?” +</p> +<p> +But Ruth was interested in another phase of +the matter. “Won’t the lady object to unexpected +visitors, Uncle Simmy?” she asked. +</p> +<p> +“Lor’ bress yo’! no, honey,” he said, helping her +out of the sheltered carriage, and then Helen in +turn. “Yo’ come right in wid me. Miss Catalpa’s +on de front po’ch. She likes t’ hear de drummin’ +ob de rain, she say—er—he, he, he! W’ite folks +sho’ do have funny sayin’s, don’t dey?” +</p> +<p> +“Then Miss Catalpa is <em>white</em>!” gasped Helen +to Ruth, as the old darkey led the way across the +back yard to the cottage. +</p> +<p> +They reached the shelter of the front veranda +just as the rain “came down in buckets,” as Helen +declared. The chums had never seen it rain so +hard before. And the thunder of it on the porch +roof drowned all other sound. Unc’ Simmy was +grinning at them and saying something; they could +see his lips moving; but they could not hear a +word. +</p> +<p> +In the half dusk of the vine-sheltered porch they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +saw him gesticulating and they looked toward the +other end. There was a low table and a sewing +basket. In a low rocker, swinging to and fro, and +crooning a song perhaps, for her lips were moving +as her needles flashed back and forth in the +soft wool she was knitting, was a fair, pink-cheeked +little lady, her light brown hair rippling +away from her brow and over her ears in some +old-fashioned and forgotten style, but which was +very becoming to the wearer. +</p> +<p> +Her ear was turned toward their end of the +porch, and she was smiling. Evidently, in spite +of the drumming of the hard rain, she had distinguished +their coming; but her eyes had the unmistakable +look of those who live in darkness. +</p> +<p> +The little lady was blind. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span><a name='chVII' id='chVII'></a>CHAPTER VII—MISS CATALPA</h2> +<p> +“Oh! the poor dear!” gasped Helen, for she, +like Ruth, discovered the little lady’s infirmity +almost at once. +</p> +<p> +The old negro coachman pompously strode +down the porch, beckoning to the girls to follow. +They were, for the moment, embarrassed. It +seemed impudent to approach this strange gentlewoman +with no introduction save that of the disreputable +looking Unc’ Simmy. +</p> +<p> +But the quick, sudden shower lulled a little and +they could hear the lady’s voice—a sweet, delicious, +drawling tone. She said: +</p> +<p> +“Yo’ have brought some callers, I see, Simmy. +Good afternoon, young ladies.” +</p> +<p> +Her use of the word “see” brought the quick, +stinging tears to Ruth Fielding’s eyes. But the +lady’s smile and outstretched hand welcomed both +girls to her end of the porch. The hand was frail +and beautiful. It surely had never done any work +more arduous than the knitting in the lady’s lap. +</p> +<p> +She was dressed very plainly in gingham; but +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +every flaunce was starched and ironed beautifully, +and the lace in the low-cut neck of the cheap gown +and at the wrists, was valuable and ivory-hued with +age. +</p> +<p> +The negro cleared his voice and said, with great +respect, removing his ancient hat as he did so: +</p> +<p> +“De young ladies done tak’ refuge yere wid’ +yo’ w’ile it shower so hard, Miss Catalpa. I tell +’em yo’ don’t mind dem comin’ in t’ res’. Yo’ +knows Unc’ Simmy dribes de quality eround de +P’int nowadays.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, Simmy. I know,” said Miss Catalpa, +with a little sigh. “It isn’t as it used to be befo’ +<em>we</em> had to take refuge, too, in this old gatehouse. +It is a refuge both in sun and rain fo’ us. How do +you do, my dears? I know you are young ladies—and +I love the young. And I fancy you are from +the No’th, too?” +</p> +<p> +And Helen and Ruth had not yet said a word! +The subtle appreciation of the blind woman told +her much that astonished the girls. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” said Ruth, striving to keep her +voice from shaking, for the pity she felt for the +lady gripped her at the throat. “We are two +schoolgirls who have come down to Dixie to play +for a few weeks after our graduation from Briarwood +Hall.” +</p> +<p> +“Indeed? I went to school fo’ a while at Miss +Chamberlain’s in Washington. Hers was a very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +select young ladies’ school. But, re’lly, you know, +had my po’ eyes not been too weak to study, the +family exchequer could scarcely stand the drain,” +and she laughed, low and sweetly. “The Grogan +fortunes had long been on the wane, you see. No +men to build them up again. The war took everything +from us; but the heaviest blow of all was +the killin’ of our men.” +</p> +<p> +“It must have been terrible,” said Ruth, “to lose +one’s brothers and fathers and cousins by bullet +and sword.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, indeed!” sighed the lady. “Not that I +can remembah it, child! No more than you can. +I’m not so old as all that,” and she laughed merrily. +“The Grogan plantation was gone, of +course, long before I saw the light. But my father +was a broken man, disabled by the campaigns he +went through.” +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t it terrible?” whispered Helen to her +chum, for it sounded to the unsophisticated girl +like a tale of recent happenings. +</p> +<p> +Miss Catalpa smiled, turning her sightless eyes +up to them. “There’s only Unc’ Simmy and I left +now. My lawyer, Kunnel Wildah, tells me there +is barely enough left to keep us in this po’ place till +I’m called to my long rest,” said the lady devoutly. +</p> +<p> +“But my wants are few. Uncle Simmy does +for me most beautifully. He is the last of the +family servants—bo’n himself on the old plantation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +This was the gateway to the Grogan Place—and +it was a mile from the house,” and she +laughed again—pleasantly, sweetly, and as carefree +in sound as a bird’s note. “The limits of the +estate have shrunk, you see.” +</p> +<p> +“It must be dreadful to have been rich, and then +fall into poverty,” Helen said, commiseratingly. +</p> +<p> +“Why, honey,” said Miss Catalpa, cheerfully, +“nothin’ is dreadful in this wo’ld if we look at it +right. All trials are sent for our blessin’, if we +take them right. Even my blindness,” she added +simply. “It must have been for my good that I +was deprived of the boon of sight ten years ago—just +when almost the last bit of money left to me +seemed to have been lost. And I expect if I +hadn’t foolishly cried so much over the failure +of the Needles Bank where the money was, and +which seemed to be a total wreck, I would not have +been totally blind. So the doctors tell me.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear, dear!” murmured Helen, wiping her +own eyes. +</p> +<p> +“But then, you see, there was enough saved +from the wreckage after all to keep me alive,” +and Miss Catalpa smiled again. “All that troubles +me is what will become of Uncle Simmy when I +am gone. He insists on ‘dribin de quality’, as he +calls it, and so earns a little something for himself. +That livery he wears is the old Grogan livery. +I expect it is a good deal faded by now,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span> +she laughed, adding: “Our old barouche, too! +He insists on taking me out in it every pleasant +Sunday. I can feel that the cushions are ragged +and that the wheels wobble. Po’ Uncle Simmy! +Ah! here he is. Surely, Simmy, the rain hasn’t +stopped?” +</p> +<p> +“No’m, Miss Catalpa,” said the old negro, appearing +and bowing again. “But mebbe ‘twon’t +stop soon, an’ deseyer young ladies want t’ git +back fo’ luncheon at de hotel. I done fix’ dat +hood, misses. ‘Twell keep yo’ dry.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth took the lady’s hand again. “I am glad +to have met you,” she said, her voice quite firm +now. “If we stay long enough at the Point, may +we come and see you again?” +</p> +<p> +“Sho’ly! Sho’ly, my dear,” she said, drawing +Ruth down to kiss her cheek. “I love to have you +young people about me. Take good care of them, +Uncle Simmy.” +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as’m, Miss Catalpa— Ah sho’ will.” +</p> +<p> +She kissed Helen, too, and possibly felt the tears +on the girl’s cheek. She patted the hand she held +and whispered: “Don’t weep for me, my dear. +I am going to a better and a brighter world some +day, I know. I am not through with this one yet—and +I love it. There is nothing to weep for.” +</p> +<p> +“And if I were she I’d not only cry my eyes +blind, but I’d cry them <em>out</em>!” whispered Helen to +Ruth, as they followed the old coachman. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span> +</p> +<p> +When they were out of ear-shot of the Lady of +the Gatehouse Ruth asked: “Who keeps house for +Miss Grogan, Uncle Simmy?” +</p> +<p> +“Fo’ Miss Catalpa?” ejaculated the negro. +“Sho’, missy, she don’t need nobody but Unc’ +Simmy.” +</p> +<p> +“There is no woman servant?” +</p> +<p> +“Lor’ bress yo’,” chuckled the black man, “ain’t +been no money to pay sarbents since dat Needleses’ +Bank done busted. Nebber <em>did</em> hear tell o’ sech a +bustification as <em>dat</em>. Dar warn’t re’lly nottin’ lef’ +fo’ de rats in de cellar. Das wot Kunnel Wildah +say.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth looked at the old man seriously and with +a glance that saw right into the white soul that +dwelt in his very black and crippled body: “Who +launders her frocks so beautifully—and your +trousers, Unc’ Simmy?” was her innocent if somewhat +impudent question. +</p> +<p> +“Ma ol’ woman done hit till she up an’ died +’bout eight ’r nine years ago,” said the coachman. +</p> +<p> +“And <em>you</em> have done it all since?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, ya-as’m! ya-as’m!” exclaimed Unc’ Simmy, +briskly. “Miss Catalpa wouldn’t feel right if she +knowed anybody else did fo’ her but me—No’m!” +</p> +<p> +Helen had gone ahead. The old man, his eyes +lowered, stood before Ruth in the rain. The girl +opened her purse quickly, selected a five dollar bill, +and thrust it into his hand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span> +</p> +<p> +“Thank you, Unc’ Simmy,” she said firmly. +“That’s all I wanted to know.” +</p> +<p> +A tear found a wrinkle in Unc’ Simmy’s lined +face for a sluiceway; but the darkey was still smiling. +“Lor’ bress you’, honey!” he murmured. “I +dunno wot Unc’ Simmy would do if ‘twarn’t fo’ +yo’ rich folks from de Norf. Ah got a lot to t’ank +you-uns for ’sides ma freedom! An’ so’s Miss +Catalpa,” he added, “on’y she don’t know it.” +</p> +<p> +“Come along, Ruth!” cried Helen, hopping into +the old carriage, the cover of which was now lifted +and tied into place. Then, when Ruth joined her +and Unc’ Simmy climbed to his seat and spread the +oilcloth over his knees, she added, in a whisper: +“I saw you, Ruth Fielding! Five dollars! Talk +about <em>me</em> being extravagant. Why, I gave him +only two dollars for the whole ride.” +</p> +<p> +“It was worth five to meet Miss Catalpa, wasn’t +it?” returned her chum, placidly. And in her own +mind she was already thinking up a scheme by +which the faithful old negro should be more substantially +helped in his lifework of caring for his +blind mistress. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span><a name='chVIII' id='chVIII'></a>CHAPTER VIII—UNDER THE UMBRELLA</h2> +<p> +The rain had not stopped—not by any means. +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen had never seen so much water +fall in so short a time. The roadway, when Unc’ +Simmy drove out into it through the ruined gateway, +was flooded from side to side. It was like +driving through a red, muddy stream. +</p> +<p> +But the two girls were comparatively dry under +the carriage top. They looked out at the drenched +country side with interest, meantime talking together +about the Lady of the Gatehouse, by which +term they ever after spoke of Miss Catalpa. +</p> +<p> +“The last of one of the F.F.V.‘s, I suppose,” +suggested Helen. “I wonder if Nettie’s Aunt +Rachel knows her. Nettie says Aunt Rachel knows +everybody who is anybody, in the South.” +</p> +<p> +“I fancy this family got through being well-known +years ago. The poor little lady has been +lost sight of, I suppose,” Ruth said. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. All her old friends are dead.” +</p> +<p> +“Except this old friend sitting up in front of +us,” Ruth said, smiling. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +</p> +<p> +“Yes. Isn’t he an old dear?” whispered Helen. +“But I wonder if he shows his Miss Catalpa off +to all the Northern people who come to the +Point?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was silent on this matter. Helen did not +suspect yet what Ruth had discovered—that Unc’ +Simmy was the sole support of the little, blind +lady; and Ruth thought she would not tell her +chum just now. She wanted to think of some way +of materially helping both the old coachman and +the Lady of the Gatehouse. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly Helen uttered a squeal of surprise, +and grabbed her friend’s arm: +</p> +<p> +“Do look there, Ruth Fielding! Whom does +that look like?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth came to her side of the carriage and craned +her head out of the window to look forward. In +the roadway on that side, a few yards ahead of the +ambling horse, strode a figure in the rain that could +not be mistaken. So narrow and mannish was the +pedestrian that a stranger would scarcely think +it a woman. The skirt clung to the rail-like limbs, +while the straight coat and silk hat helped to make +Miss Miggs look extremely like a man. +</p> +<p> +“And wet! That’s no name for it,” giggled +Helen. “She’s saturated right to the bone—and +plenty of bone she has to be saturated to. Let’s +give her three cheers as we go by, Ruth.” +</p> +<p> +“You horrid girl! nothing of the kind,” cried +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +Ruth Fielding, quite exercised. “We must take +her in with us—the carriage will hold three. Unc’ +Simmy!” +</p> +<p> +“You’re the greatest girl,” groaned Helen. +“You might return good for evil for a year with +this person and it would do no good.” +</p> +<p> +“It always does good,” responded Ruth. “Unc’ +Simmy!” +</p> +<p> +“To whom, I’d like to know?” demanded +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“To <em>me</em>,” snapped Ruth, and this time when she +raised her voice she made the old darkey hear. +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as’m! ya-as’m!” he cried, turning and pulling +the old horse down to a welcome walk. +</p> +<p> +“Let that lady get in here, Unc’ Simmy. We’ll +take her to the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +“Sho’ nuff! Sartainly,” agreed the coachman, +and with a flourish he stopped beside the woman +who was fairly wading through a muddy river. +</p> +<p> +The rain was coming down harder again. It +did not thunder and lightning much, but the rainfall +was fairly appalling to these visitors from the +North. +</p> +<p> +“Do get in, quick!” cried Ruth, opening the low +door and peering out from the semi-gloom of the +hood. +</p> +<p> +The school teacher from New England understood +instantly what the invitation meant. She +plunged toward the carriage and was half inside +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +before she saw who had rescued her from the +deluge. +</p> +<p> +“Get in! get in!” urged Ruth. “Unc’ Simmy +will take us right to the hotel.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Miggs fairly snorted. “What! you? I +wouldn’t ride with you in this carriage if we were +in the middle of the Atlantic!” +</p> +<p> +She backed out and stepped right into a puddle +of water as deep as her ankles! The excited +scream she gave made Helen burst into suppressed +laughter. Hearing the girl, the woman glared +at her in a way that excited the laughter of the +careless Helen to an even greater height. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, drive on! drive on!” she gasped. “Let her +swim if she wants to.” +</p> +<p> +But Unc’ Simmy would not do this unless Ruth +said so. He looked down at the half submerged +school teacher from his seat and exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +“Wal, now! das one foolish woman, das sho’ +is! Why don’ she git under kiver when she’s ‘vited +t’ do so?” +</p> +<p> +Just then a new actor appeared on the scene. +A big umbrella came into view and its bearer +crossed the road, splashing through the accumulated +water without regard to the wetting of his +own feet and legs. +</p> +<p> +He gave the half-submerged woman a hand and +drew her out to the side of the road, and upon a +comparatively dry spot. He had some difficulty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span> +with the umbrella just then and raised it high +enough for the two girls in the carriage to see his +face. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruthie, look there!” whispered Helen, as +the horse started forward. “See who it is!” +</p> +<p> +“It’s Curly—it’s surely Curly Smith,” muttered +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what I tell you,” whispered Helen, +fiercely. “And now we can’t speak to him.” +</p> +<p> +“Not with that Miss Miggs in the way. She is +mean enough to tell the police who he is.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” cried Helen, exultantly, “he got +ashore from the fishing boat.” +</p> +<p> +“But I wonder if he has any money left—and +what he will do now. The police may still be looking +for him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, a boy as smart as he is would <em>never</em> get +caught by the police,” declared Helen, in delight. +“I only wish I could speak to him and tell him +how glad I am he escaped arrest.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re an awful-talking girl,” sighed Ruth, as +the old horse jogged on. “I wish I could get him +to go back to his grandmother—and go back to +show the people up there that he is innocent.” +</p> +<p> +“That does all very well to talk about, Ruth +Fielding!” cried Helen. “But suppose he can’t +<em>prove</em> himself innocent? Do you want the poor +boy to go to jail and stay there the rest of his +life?” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span><a name='chIX' id='chIX'></a>CHAPTER IX—SUNSHINE AT THE GATEHOUSE</h2> +<p> +The shower was over when Unc’ Simmy +stopped before the hotel veranda. The two girls +were rather bedraggled in appearance; but what +would Miss Miggs look like when <em>she</em> arrived! +</p> +<p> +“I hope we won’t see that mean thing any +more,” Helen declared. “She is our Nemesis, I +do believe.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t let her worry you. She surely punished +herself this time,” said Ruth, getting down. +“Good-bye Unc’ Simmy. Come for us again to-morrow—only +I hope it won’t rain.” +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as’m! ya-as’m! T’ankee ma’am!” responded +the darkey, and when Helen had likewise +alighted, he rattled away. +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” laughed Helen. “Are you so +much in love with that old outfit that you want +to ride in it again, Ruthie Fielding?” +</p> +<p> +“I want to see Miss Catalpa again—don’t +you?” returned her chum. “And I would not go +to the gatehouse with anybody but Unc’ Simmy. +It would be impudent to do so.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh—yes! that’s so,” admitted Helen. “Come +on to luncheon. I have Heavy Stone’s appetite, +right now!” +</p> +<p> +“If so, what will poor Heavy do?” asked Ruth, +smiling. “This must be about the time she wishes +to exercise her own appetite at Lighthouse Point. +Would you deprive her, my dear, of any gastronomic +pleasure?” +</p> +<p> +“Woo-o-o!” blew Helen, making a noise like +a whistle. “All ashore that’s going ashore! What +big words you do use, Ruth. At any rate, let us +partake of the eatables supplied by this hostlery. +Come on!” +</p> +<p> +But they went up to their rooms first to “prink +and putter” as Tom always called it. +</p> +<p> +“Dear old Tom!” sighed his twin. “How I +miss him. And what fun we’d have if he were +along. Sorry Nettie’s Aunt Rachel doesn’t like +boys enough to have made up a mixed party.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re the only ‘mixed’ party I see around +here,” laughed Ruth. “But I wish Tom <em>were</em> +here. He’d know just how to get at Curly Smith +and do something for him.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s right! I wish he were here,” sighed +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” laughed Ruth. “Don’t let it +take away that famous appetite you just claimed to +have. Come on.” +</p> +<p> +The girls went down and ventured into one of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +the dining rooms. A smiling colored waiter—“at +so much per smile,” as Ruth whispered—welcomed +them at the door and seated them at rather +a large table. This had been selected for them +because their party would soon be augmented. +</p> +<p> +And this, in fact, happened before night. The +girls were lolling in content and happiness upon +the veranda when the train came in bringing among +other passengers Mrs. Parsons and Nettie. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Parsons was a dark-haired and olive-skinned +lady, who had been a famous beauty in +her youth, and a belle in her part of South Carolina. +Rachel Merredith had been quite famous, +indeed, in several social centers, and she was well +known in Washington and Richmond, as well as +in the more Southern cities. +</p> +<p> +She greeted Helen kindly, but warmly kissed +Ruth, having become an admirer of the girl of +the Red Mill some time before. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s my clever little girl,” she said, in her +soft, drawling way. “I declare! Ev’ry time I +put on my necklace I think of you, Ruthie Fielding, +and how greatly beholden to you I am. I tell Nettie, +here, that when <em>she</em> receives our heirloom at +her coming-out party, she will thank you, too.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t have to wait till then, Aunt Rachel!” +cried Nettie, squeezing the plump shoulders of the +girl of the Red Mill. “Isn’t it nice to see you both +again? How jolly!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +</p> +<p> +“That’s a new word Nettie got up No’th,” said +her Aunt Rachel. “Tell me, dears: Have they +treated you right, here at the hotel?” +</p> +<p> +The girls assured her that the management had +been very kind to them. Then the question was +asked: What had they done to kill time? +</p> +<p> +Helen rattled off a dozen things she and Ruth +had dabbled in that afternoon—or, “evening” as +the Virginians say; but it was Ruth who mentioned +their ride in the rain with old Unc’ Simmy. +</p> +<p> +“To the gatehouse? Where is that?” asked +Aunt Rachel, lazily. +</p> +<p> +Between bursts of laughter Helen tried to tell +her about the queer old negro and his dilapidated +turnout; but it was Ruth who softly explained to +Mrs. Parsons about Miss Catalpa and the faithful +old darkey’s relations to her. +</p> +<p> +“Grogan?” repeated the lady. “Yes, yes, I remember +the name. Who doesn’t? Major Grogan, +her father, was a famous leader in the Lost Cause. +Oh, dear me, Ruthie! We are still so poor in +the South that the family of many a hero has come +down to want. Catalpa Grogan? And you say +she is blind?” +</p> +<p> +“She said we might come again and see her before +we left the Point,” suggested Ruth, gently. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Rachel Parsons looked at her understandingly. +“Quite right, my dear. We <em>will</em> go. I +will find out about this lawyer, Colonel Wilder, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +and he can probably tell me all we need to know. +She and the old negro shall be helped—that is the +least we can do.” +</p> +<p> +So, the next morning, all in the glorious sunshine +that is usually the weather condition at Old Point +Comfort, the party climbed into Unc’ Simmy’s +old barouche and set out on the drive. Mrs. Parsons +accepted the dilapidated turnout as quite a +matter of course. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t fret about <em>me</em>, girls,” she said, when +Helen said that they should have taken a different +equipage. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had already begun to get the “slant” of +the Southern mind. The Southerners respected +themselves, and were inordinately proud of their +name and blood; but they could cheerfully go without +many of the conveniences of life which Northerners +would consider a distinct privation. Poverty +among them was no disgrace; rather, it was +to be expected. They cheerfully made the best +of it, and enjoyed what good things they had without +allowing caviling care to corrode their pleasure. +</p> +<p> +The sunshine drenched them as they rolled over +the now dusty road, as the rain had drenched the +chums the day before. Yonder was the hole beside +the roadway into which Miss Miggs had been +half submerged, and from which she was rescued +by the unfortunate Curly Smith. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span> +</p> +<p> +Helen hilariously related this incident to Nettie +and her aunt. But, warned by Ruth, she said +nothing about the identity of the boy. +</p> +<p> +“I hope we shall not meet that woman again,” +Ruth said, with a sigh. “She surely would make a +scene, Mrs. Parsons. You don’t know how mean +she can be.” +</p> +<p> +“And a school teacher?” was the reply. +“Fancy!” +</p> +<p> +They arrived at the gatehouse and Ruth begged +Unc’ Simmy to stop and ask if Miss Catalpa +would receive them. +</p> +<p> +“Give her my card, too, boy,” said Mrs. Parsons, +as the smiling old man climbed down from +his seat. +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as’m! ya-as’m!” said Unc’ Simmy, rolling +his eyes, for he saw that Mrs. Parsons was “one +of de quality,” as he expressed it. “Sho’ will.” +</p> +<p> +They were not kept waiting long. Miss Grogan +was too much the lady to strive for effect. +She received them, as she had the girls, on her +porch; but this time in the sunshine. +</p> +<p> +It was a beautiful old front yard, hidden by an +untrimmed hedge from the highway; and the end +of the porch where the blind woman sat was now +dressed with several old chairs that her guests +might sit down. It was likely that Unc’ Simmy +had brought these out himself, foretelling that +there would be visitors. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +</p> +<p> +“I am glad to see you,” Miss Catalpa said. She +remembered Ruth and Helen when she clasped +their hands, distinguishing between them, although +she had “seen” them but once. +</p> +<p> +To Mrs. Parsons she confessed: “These young +girls came in the rain and cheered me up. I love +the young. Don’t you, ma’am?” +</p> +<p> +“I do,” sighed Aunt Rachel. “I’d give anything +for my own youth.” +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” returned Miss Catalpa, shaking her +head. “Life gets better as we grow mellow. +That’s what I tell them all. I do not regret my +youth, although ’twas spent comparatively free +from care. And now——” +</p> +<p> +She waved the knitting in her hand, and laughed—her +low, bird-like call. “The good Lord will +provide. He always has.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Parsons, being a Southerner herself, could +talk confidentially to Miss Catalpa. It seemed +that several names were known to them in common; +and the visitor from South Carolina learned +how and where to find the particular “Kunnel +Wildah” who had the disposal of Miss Catalpa’s +affairs in his hands. +</p> +<p> +The party had a very pleasant visit with the +blind woman. Unc’ Simmy appeared suddenly before +them, his coachman’s coat and gloves discarded, +and a rusty black coat in place of the livery. +He bore a tray with high, beautifully thin, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +tinkling glasses of lemonade, with a sprig of mint +in each. +</p> +<p> +“Nobody makes lemonade quite like Uncle +Simmy,” Miss Catalpa said kindly, and the old +negro’s face shone like a polished kitchen range +at the praise. It was evident that he fairly worshiped +his mistress. +</p> +<p> +The visitors left at last. Helen understood now +why they had come. That afternoon the girls +were left to their own devices while Mrs. Parsons +sought out Colonel Wilder and made some +provision for helping in the support of Miss Catalpa +and her old servant. +</p> +<p> +“No, my dear,” she said to Ruth. “You may +help a little; but not much. Wait until you become +a self-supporting woman—as you will be, I know. +Then you can have the full pleasure of helping +other people as you desire. I can only enjoy it +because my cotton fields have made me rich. When +we use money that has been left to us, or given +to us in some way, for charitable purposes, we +lose the sweeter taste of giving away that which +we have actually earned. +</p> +<p> +“And I thank you, my dear,” she added, “for +giving me the opportunity of helping Miss Grogan +and Uncle Simmy.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span><a name='chX' id='chX'></a>CHAPTER X—AN ADVENTURE IN NORFOLK</h2> +<p> +The party was off on its real tour into Dixie +the next day. They were to take the route in a +leisurely fashion to the Merredith plantation, and, +as Nettie laughingly put it, “would go all around +Robin Hood’s barn” to reach that South Carolinian +Garden of Eden. +</p> +<p> +“But we want you to really <em>see</em> something of +the South on the way; it will be so warm—or, will +seem so to you No’therners—when you come back, +that you will only be thinking of taking the steamer +at Norfolk for New York. +</p> +<p> +“Now you shall see something of Richmond and +Charleston, anyway,” concluded the Louisiana +girl. “And next winter I hope you’ll go home with +me to my own canebrakes and bayous. <em>Then</em> we’ll +have a good time, I assure you.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen were having a good time. +Everybody about the hotel treated them like +grown-up young ladies—and of course such +deferential attentions delighted two schoolgirls +just set free from the scholastic yoke. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +</p> +<p> +They went across the bay on the ferry and +landed at Norfolk. A trip to the Navy Yard was +the first thing, and as Mrs. Parsons knew some of +the officers there, the party was very courteously +treated. They might have visited the war vessels +lying in Hampton Roads; but it seemed so hot on +the water that the chums from the North voted for +a trip by surface car to Norfolk’s City Park. +</p> +<p> +The lawns had not yet been burned brown and +the trees were beautifully leaved out. The park +was a pleasant place and in it is one of the best +small zoölogical parks in the East. The deer herd +was particularly fine—such pretty, graceful creatures! +All would have gone well had not Helen +received an unexpected fright as they were watching +the beautiful beasts. +</p> +<p> +“You would better not stand so near that grating, +Helen,” Nettie told her, as they were in front +of the fence of the deer range. +</p> +<p> +“How am I going to feed this pretty, soft-nosed +thing with grass if I <em>don’t</em> stand near?” demanded +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“But you don’t <em>have</em> to feed the deer,” laughed +Nettie. +</p> +<p> +“No. But there’s no sign that says you sha’n’t,” +complained Helen. “And I don’t see——” +</p> +<p> +Just then there was a fierce whistle and a big +stag charged. Helen looked all around—save +in the right direction—for the sound. She was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +leaning against the wire fence, but with her head +turned so that she did not see the gentle little doe +bound away as her master came savagely down +the slope. +</p> +<p> +The next instant the brute crashed against the +fence and the shock of his collision sent Helen to +the ground. Although the angry stag was on the +other side of the woven-wire fence, so savage did +he appear that other people standing about ran +screaming away. +</p> +<p> +The stag was tearing up the sod with his forefeet +and throwing himself against the shaking +fence as though determined to get at the prostrate +Helen. +</p> +<p> +The latter was really hurt a little, and so badly +frightened that she could not arise instantly. Nettie +was the nearest of her party; but she was trembling +and crying. Ruth was too far away, as was +Mrs. Parsons, to help her chum immediately, +though she started running in her direction. +</p> +<p> +But there was a rescuer at hand. A boy in a +faded suit of overalls, who must have been working +near, ran down to drag the frightened girl +away from the fence. As he passed an old gentleman +on the walk he seized the latter’s cane and +darting between Helen and the fence, dealt the +angry stag a heavy blow upon the nose. +</p> +<p> +Although the wire-fence saved the beast from +serious injury, the blow was heavy enough to make +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +him fall back and cease his charges against the +wire netting. Then the boy helped Helen to her +feet. +</p> +<p> +“Oh!” shrieked the frightened girl. And after +that, although the boy quickly slipped away +through the gathering crowd, and out of sight, +Helen said no other word. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear!” gasped Ruth, reaching her. “You +did not even thank him.” +</p> +<p> +“I know it,” whispered Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Are—are you hurt, dear?” +</p> +<p> +“Only my dignity is hurt,” confessed her chum, +beginning to laugh hysterically. +</p> +<p> +“But that boy——” +</p> +<p> +“Hush, Ruthie!” begged Helen, her lips close +to her chum’s ear. “Do you know who he was?” +</p> +<p> +“Why—I——Of course not! I did not see his +face.” +</p> +<p> +“It was Curly. Don’t say a word,” breathed +Helen. “Here comes a policeman.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was as much amazed as Helen at the unexpected +appearance of Henry Smith. He was +constantly bobbing up before them just like an +imp in a pantomime. +</p> +<p> +Their friends hurried the chums away from the +caged deer and the crowd that had gathered. +Helen had a few bruises but was not, fortunately, +really injured. But she confessed that she had +seen all the deer she cared to see for the time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +</p> +<p> +“And I thought they were such gentle, affectionate +creatures,” she sighed. “Why, that one was +as savage as a bear!” +</p> +<p> +They returned to the water-front and went +aboard the Richmond boat in good season for dinner. +Ruth and Helen were rather used to boat +travel they thought by this time, and they found +this smaller craft quite as pleasant as the big +steamer on which they had come down the coast. +</p> +<p> +While they were at table in the saloon the boat +started, and so nicely was it eased off, and so quiet +was the water, that the girls had no idea the vessel +had started. +</p> +<p> +The girls ran out on deck, arranged a comfortable +place for Mrs. Parsons, and there watched +the panoramic view of the roads and the shores +until darkness fell. +</p> +<p> +“We shall miss many of the beauties of the +James River plantations and towns,” Mrs. Parsons +said; “by taking this night boat; but we shall +have a good night’s sleep and see more of Richmond +to-morrow than we otherwise could.” +</p> +<p> +The chums did not have quite as much freedom +on the river trip as they did coming down on the +New Union Line boat; for Mrs. Parsons insisted +upon an early bedtime. She would not have liked +their sitting out on the deck alone at a late hour. +She did not believe in too much freedom for young +girls of her niece’s age. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span> +</p> +<p> +However, she was very pleasant to travel with. +Ruth and Helen marveled at the attention Mrs. +Parsons received from all the employees of the +boat, both white and black. +</p> +<p> +“And she doesn’t have to tip extravagantly to +get service,” Ruth pointed out to Helen. “You +see, these darkeys consider it an honor to attend +Mrs. Parsons. We Northerners are interlopers, +after all; they sell us their servile attentions +at a high price; but they are glad to serve the +descendants of their old masters. There is a bond +between the whites and blacks of the South that +we cannot quite understand.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess we’re too independent and want to +help ourselves too much,” Helen said. “You let +me alone, Ruth Fielding, and I’ll loll around just +like Nettie does and let the colored people fetch +and carry for me.” +</p> +<p> +“You lazy little thing!” Ruth threw at her, +laughing. “It doesn’t become your father’s daughter +to long for such methods and habits. Goodness! +the negroes themselves are so slow they give +me the fidgets.” +</p> +<p> +In the morning they awoke from sleep as the +boat was being docked. It was another beautiful, +sunshiny day. The negro dockhands lolled upon +the wharves. Up the river they could see the +bridge to Manchester and the rapids, up which +no boat could sail. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +</p> +<p> +They ate their breakfast in a leisurely manner +on the boat, and then took an open carriage on +Main Street, where the sickish odor of the tobacco +factories was all that spoiled the ride. +</p> +<p> +They rode east and passed the site of the old +Libby tobacco warehouse—execrated by the prisoners +during the Civil War as “Libby Prison”—and +saw, too, Libby Hill Park, Marshall’s Park +and the beautiful Chimborazo reservation. +</p> +<p> +Coming back they climbed the Broad Street hill +and stopped at the hotel, remaining there for rest +and luncheon. Then the girls walked on Broad +Street and saw the shops and bought a few souvenirs +and some needfuls, while Mrs. Parsons remained +in the hotel. The sun was hot, but the +air was dry and invigorating. +</p> +<p> +Later in the afternoon the whole party went +down into Capitol Square—a very beautiful park, +in which are located the state-house, the library, +and the Washington Monument. +</p> +<p> +“Besides,” declared Helen, “’most a million +squirrels. Did you ever see so many of the little +dears? And see how tame they are.” +</p> +<p> +The squirrels and the children with their black +nurses in Capitol Square are among the pleasantest +sights of Richmond. There was the old bell tower, +too, near the North Twelfth Street side, which interested +the girls, and they walked back to the hotel +by way of Franklin Street and saw the old home +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span> +of General Robert E. Lee and some other famous +dwellings. +</p> +<p> +The party was to remain one night in Richmond, +and in the morning the girls went alone to +the Confederate Museum on Clay Street, which +during the Civil War was the “White House of +the Confederacy.” +</p> +<p> +“I leave you young people to do the rest of the +sightseeing,” Mrs. Parsons said, and took her +breakfast in bed, waited on by a colored maid. +</p> +<p> +But at noon she appeared, trim and fresh again, +in time for luncheon and the ride to the railway +station where they took the train for the South. +</p> +<p> +“Now we’re off for the Land of Cotton!” cried +Helen. “This dip into Dixie so far has only been +a taste. What adventures are before us now, do +you suppose, Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +Her chum could not tell her. Indeed, neither +of them could have imagined quite what was to +happen to them before they again turned their +faces north for the return journey. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span><a name='chXI' id='chXI'></a>CHAPTER XI—AT THE MERREDITH PLANTATION</h2> +<p> +The noontide bell at some distant cotton house +sent a solemn note—like an alarm—ringing across +the lowlands. The warm, sweet smell of the +brakes almost overpowered the girls from the +North. And lulling their senses, too, were the +bird-notes, seemingly from every tree and bush. +</p> +<p> +Long festoons of moss hung from some of the +wide-armed trees. Here and there, cleared hammocks +were shaded by mighty oaks which may +have been standing when the first white settlers on +this coast of the New World established themselves +at Georgetown, not many miles away. +</p> +<p> +Riding in the comfortable open carriage, behind +a handsome pair of bay horses, and driven by a +liveried coachman with a footman likewise caparisoned +on the seat beside him, Ruth and Helen, as +guests of Mrs. Rachel Parsons and Nettie, had +already come twenty miles from the railroad station. +</p> +<p> +Despite the moisture and the heat, the girls +from the North were enjoying themselves hugely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +The week that had passed since they had met Nettie +and her aunt at Old Point Comfort had been +a most delightful one for the chums. +</p> +<p> +The long railroad journey south from Richmond +had been broken by stops at points of interest, +including New Bern, Wilmington, Pee Dee, +and finally Charleston. The latter city had interested +the girls immensely—quite as much as +Richmond. +</p> +<p> +After two days there, the party had come back +as far as Lanes and had there taken the branch +road for Georgetown, at the mouth of the Pee +Dee River, one of the oldest towns in the South, +and around which linger many memories of Revolutionary +days. The guests would not see this old +town until a later date, however. +</p> +<p> +Leaving the train at a small station in the forest, +they were met by this handsome equipage and were +now approaching the Merredith plantation. Ruth, +as silent as her companions, was contrasting in her +own mind this beautiful carriage and pair with +the old Grogan barouche, the knock-kneed horse, +and Unc’ Simmy. +</p> +<p> +“Two phases of the new South,” she thought, +for Ruth was rather prone to a kind of mental +problem that does not usually interest young folk +of her age. “Here is the progressive, up-to-date, +money-making class represented by Mrs. Parsons, +reviving the ancient fortunes of her house. While +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +poor Miss Catalpa and her single faithful servant +represent the helpless and hopeless class, ruined +by the war and—probably—ruined before the +war, only they had not found it out! +</p> +<p> +“The Southern families who are reviving will, +in time, be wealthier than they were under the old +regime. But how many poor people like Miss +Catalpa there must be scattered through this +Dixieland!” +</p> +<p> +The party soon came to where two huge oaks, +scarred deeply by the axe, intermingled their +branches over the roadway. +</p> +<p> +“This is our gateway,” said Mrs. Parsons. +“Here is the beginning of the Merredith plantation.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mrs. Parsons!” cried Helen, pointing to +one side. “What is that pole there? Or is it a +dead tree?” +</p> +<p> +“A dead pine. And it has been dead more than +a hundred years, yet it still stands,” explained the +lady. “They say that to its lowest branch was +hung a British spy in Revolutionary times—‘as +high as Haman’; but re’lly, how they ever climbed +so high to affix the rope over the limb, I cannot +say.” +</p> +<p> +She spoke to the coachman in a minute: “Jeffreys!” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” replied the black man. +</p> +<p> +“Drive by the quarters.” She said “quahtahs.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +“It will give the children a chance to see us, and +Dilsey and Patrick Henry won’t want them coming +to the Big House and littering up the lawn.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am,” said the coachman and swung +the horses into a by-road. +</p> +<p> +All the drives were beautifully kept. If there +chanced to be a piece of grass in a forest opening, +it was clipped like a lawn. This end of the great +plantation was kept as well as an English park. +Occasionally they saw men at work amid the +groves of lovely shade trees. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly there burst upon their view a sloping +upland, dotted here and there with groups of outbuildings +and stables, checkered by fenced pastures +in which sleek cattle and horses grazed. There +were truck patches, too, belonging to the quarters, +where the negroes lived. +</p> +<p> +These whitewashed cabins, with their attendant +chicken-runs and pig-pens—all whitewashed, too—were +near at hand. As the carriage swung out of +the forest, the hum of a busy village broke upon +the ears of the girls, as the sight of all this rich +and rolling upland burst upon their view. +</p> +<p> +The green trees and the green grass contrasted +with the white cots made a delightfully cool picture +for the eye. +</p> +<p> +The mistress’ equipage was sighted immediately +and there boiled out of the cabins a seemingly +never-ending army of children and dogs. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +dogs were all of the hound breed, and the children +were of one variety, too—brown, bare-legged pickaninnies, +about all of a size, and most of them +bow-legged. +</p> +<p> +But they were a laughing, happy crowd as they +came tearing along the lane to meet the carriage. +The hullabaloo of the dogs and children brought +the mothers to the cabin doors, or around from +their washtubs at the rear of the cabins. They, +too, were smiling and—many of them—in clean +frocks and new bandanas, prepared to meet “de +quality.” +</p> +<p> +And there were so many of them, bowing and +smiling at “Mistis,” as they called Mrs. Parsons, +and bidding her welcome! It was like a village +turning out to greet the feudal owner of the property. +Mrs. Parsons seemed to know all of them +by name, and she shook hands with the older +women, and spoke particularly to some of the +young women with babies in their arms. Noticeably +there were no children over seven or eight +years old at home; nor were there any young men +or women, save the few married girls with infants. +Everybody else was at work in the fields, Ruth +learned. And she learned, too, in time, that the +Merredith plantation was one of the largest cotton +farms in the state, and one of the most productive. +</p> +<p> +A little later, however, as they rode on, the visitors +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +learned that there was something beside cotton +grown on the estate. On the upland they came +to a field of corn. It extended farther than their +eyes could see—a waving, black-green, waist-high +sea, its blades clashing like a forest of green +swords. +</p> +<p> +“How many acres in this piece, Jeffreys?” asked +Mrs. Parsons, of the coachman, seeing that the +two Northern girls were interested. +</p> +<p> +“Four hundred acres, ma’am. I hear Mistah +Lomaine say so.” +</p> +<p> +“We passed huge corn and grain fields when we +went West to Silver Ranch,” Ruth said. “But +mostly in the night, I believe; and the corn was not +in the same stage of growth as this.” +</p> +<p> +“Cotton is still king in the South,” laughed Mrs. +Parsons; “but Corn has become his prime-minister. +I believe some of our bottom lands will raise even +better corn than this.” +</p> +<p> +They rode steadily on, having taken a considerable +sweep around to see the “quarters,” and now +approached the Big House. And it <em>was</em> big! Ruth +and Helen never heard it called anything but the +“Big House” by anybody on the plantation. +</p> +<p> +It was set upon a low mound in a grove of +whispering trees. The lawns about it were like +velvet; the grass was of that old-fashioned, short, +“door-yard” kind which finds root in many door-yards +of the South and spreads slowly and surely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +where the land is strong enough to sustain it. It +needs little attention from the lawnmower, but +makes a thick, velvety carpet. +</p> +<p> +The roots of some of the old trees had been +exposed so many years that their upper surface +had rotted away, and in the rich mold thus made +the grass had taken root, upholstering low, inviting +seats with its green velvet. +</p> +<p> +The house itself—mansion it had better be +called—was painted white, of course, even to its +brick foundation. The massive roof of the veranda +which sheltered the second-floor windows as +well as those of the first floor on the front of the +main building, was upheld by six great fluted pillars +as sound now as when cut from an equal number +of forest monarchs and raised into place, a hundred +years before. +</p> +<p> +On either side wings were built on to the main +house, each big enough for the largest family +Ruth Fielding had ever known! What could possibly +be done with all those bedrooms upstairs was +a mystery to her inquiring mind until Nettie told +her that, in the old slavery days, long before the +war, and when people traveled only on horseback +and by coach, a house party at the Merredith plantation +meant the inviting for a week or two of +twenty-five ladies and as many gentlemen, and each +had his or her black attendant—valet, or maid—that +had to be sheltered in the Big House at night, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +although coachmen and footmen, and other “outriders” +could find room in the cabins, or stables. +</p> +<p> +Both wings were closed now; but the windows +remained dressed, for Mrs. Parsons would not allow +any part of the old house to look ugly and +forlorn. Twice a year an army of colored women +went through the empty rooms and cleaned and +scoured, just as though again a vast company were +expected. +</p> +<p> +The small retinue of house servants met the +carriage at the foot of the broad steps. They +were mostly smiling young negroes, the men in livery +and the girls in cotton gowns, stiffly starched +aprons, and white caps. There was a broad, +unctuous looking, mahogany colored “Mammy” +on the top step, and a gray-wooled, bent, old +negro at the door of the carriage when it stopped. +</p> +<p> +“Good day, ma’am! Good-day!” said the old +man to Mrs. Parsons. “My duty to you.” +</p> +<p> +He waved away the officious footman and insisted +upon helping the mistress of the Merredith +plantation down with all the pompous service of +a major-domo. +</p> +<p> +“We are all well, Patrick Henry,” said Aunt +Rachel. “Is everything right on the plantation?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes’m; yes’m. I’ll be proud to make my report +at any time, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, to-morrow, I pray, Patrick Henry,” cried +Mrs. Parsons. She ran lightly up the steps and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +the big colored woman, waiting there with smiling +lips but overflowing eyes, gathered the lady to her +broad bosom in a bearlike hug. +</p> +<p> +“Ma honey-gal! Ma little mistis!” she crooned, +rocking the white woman’s head to and fro upon +her bosom. “Dilsey don’t reckon she’ll welcome +yo’ here so bery many mo’ times; but she’s sho’ +glad of dishyer one!” +</p> +<p> +“You are good for many years more, you know +it, Mammy Dilsey!” laughed Mrs. Parsons, +breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s Miss Nettie,” she said, “and two of +her school friends—Miss Ruth and Miss Helen. +Of course, there is no need to ask you, Mammy +Dilsey, if everything is ready for them?” +</p> +<p> +“Sho’, chile!” chuckled the old negress. “Yo’ +knows I wouldn’t fo’git nottin’ like dat. De quality +allus is treated proper at Mer’dith. Come +along, honeys; dere’s time t’ res’ yo’selfs an’ dress +fo’ dinner. We gwine t’ gib yo’ sech anudder dinner +as yo’ ain’ seen, Miss Rachel, since yo’ was +yere airly in de spring. I know bery well yo’ +been stahvin’ ob yo’self in dem hotels in de Norf +all dishyer w’ile.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span><a name='chXII' id='chXII'></a>CHAPTER XII—THE BOY AT THE WAREHOUSE</h2> +<p> +“Goodness me!” cried Helen to Nettie. “How +do you get along with so many of these colored +people under foot? I had thought it might be fun +to have so many servants; but I don’t believe I +could stand it.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, I don’t think Aunt Rachel has too many,” +Nettie said carelessly. “We don’t mind having +them around. As long as their faces are smiling +and we know they are happy, we don’t mind. You +see, we Southerners actually like the negroes; you +Northerners only <em>say</em> you do.” +</p> +<p> +“Hear! hear!” cried Ruth. “There is a difference.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” pouted Helen, “I don’t know that I +have any dislike for them. I—I guess maybe I’m +not just used to them.” +</p> +<p> +“It takes several generations of familiarity, I +reckon,” said Nettie, with some gravity, “to breed +the feeling we Southerners have for the children +of our old slaves. Slavery seems to have been a +terrible institution to you Northern girls; but we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +feel that the vast majority of the negroes were +better off in those days than they are now. +</p> +<p> +“Slavery after all is a condition of the mind,” +Nettie said. “Those blacks who were intelligent +in the old days perhaps should have had their +freedom. But few slaves went with empty stomachs +in the old days, or had to worry about shelter. +</p> +<p> +“It is different now. Whites as well as blacks +throughout the South often go hungry. Aunt +Rachel keeps many more people on the Merredith +plantation than she really needs to work it, so that +there shall be fewer starving families on the outskirts +of the estate.” +</p> +<p> +“Your aunt is a dear, good woman,” Ruth said +warmly. “I am sure whatever she does is right.” +</p> +<p> +The girls were sitting in comfortable rocking +chairs on the broad veranda in the cool of the +evening. A mocking-bird began to sing in a tree +near by and the three friends broke off their conversation +to listen to him. +</p> +<p> +“I’d have loved to see one of those grand companies +of ladies and gentlemen who used to visit +here,” said Helen, after a little. “Such a weekend +party as that must have been worth while.” +</p> +<p> +“And you don’t like darkeys!” cried Nettie, +laughing merrily. “Why, in those times the place +was alive with them. This piece of gravel before +the house was haunted by every darkey from the +quarters. The gravel was worked like a regular +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span> +silver-mine. No gentleman mounted his horse before +the door here without scattering a handful of +silver to the darkeys. Even now, the men working +for Aunt Rachel, sometimes find tarnished old +silver pieces as they rake over the gravel.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me! let’s go silver-mining, Ruthie,” cried +Helen. “I need to have my purse replenished +already.” +</p> +<p> +“And if you found any money here you would +give it to that bright little girl who waited on us +so nicely upstairs,” laughed Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Of course. That’s what I want it for,” confessed +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Your mind is perfectly adjusted to a system +of slavery, my dear,” Nettie said to Helen Cameron. +“Here is my father’s picture of what slavery +meant to the South. He says he was walking +along a street in New Orleans years ago and saw +an old gentleman grubbing in the mud of a gutter +with his cane. The old gentleman finally turned +up a half dollar which had been dropped there; +and after picking it up and polishing it on his +handkerchief to make sure it was good money, +he tossed it to the nearest negro idling on the street +corner. +</p> +<p> +“<em>That</em> was slavery. It was the whites who were +enslaved to the blacks, after all. Both were bound +by the system; but it was the negro who got the +best of it, for every half dollar that the white man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +earned he had to pay for food to keep his slaves. +Now,” added Nettie, smiling, “the law even lets +the bad white man cheat the ignorant black out of +the wages he earns, and the poor black may +starve.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me!” cried Helen, “we’re getting as +sociological as one of Miss Brokaw’s lectures. +Let’s not. Keep your information to yourself, +please, Miss Parsons. Positively I refuse to learn +anything about social conditions in the South while +I am in the Land of Cotton. I’ll get my information +from text-books and at a distance. This is +too beautiful a landscape to have it spoiled by statistics +and examples, or any other <em>such trash</em>!” +</p> +<p> +By and by, as the darkness came swiftly (so +swiftly that it surprised the visitors from the +North) a bird flew heavily out of the lowlands +and pitched upon a dead limb near the house. At +once the plaintive cry of “whip-poor-will!” resounded +through the night, and Ruth and Helen +began to count the number of times in succession +the bird uttered its somber note without a break. +</p> +<p> +Usually the count numbered from forty-three to +forty-seven—never an even number; but Nettie +said she had heard one demand “the castigation of +poor William” more than seventy times before +stopping. +</p> +<p> +The whippoorwill flew to other “pitches” near +the house, and once actually lit upon the roof to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +utter his love-call; but never, Nettie told the other +girls, would the bird alight upon a live branch. +</p> +<p> +Just before his cry began they could hear him +“cluck! cluck! cluck!” just like an old hen—or, as +Ruth suggested—“like a rheumatic old clock getting +ready to strike.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s clearing his voice,” declared Helen. +“Now! off he goes. Isn’t he funny?” +</p> +<p> +“I wonder what the little whippoorwillies are +like?” asked Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. I never saw the young. But +I’ve seen a nest,” said Nettie. “The whippoorwill +makes it right out in the open, on the top of +an old stump, or on a boulder. There the female +lays the eggs and shelters them and the young +from the storms with her own body.” +</p> +<p> +“My, I’d like to see one!” exclaimed Helen. +</p> +<p> +But there were more interesting things than the +nest of the whippoorwill to see about the Merredith +plantation. And the sightseeing began the +next morning, before the sun had been long up. +</p> +<p> +Immediately after breakfast, while it was still +cool, the horses appeared on the gravel before the +great door, each held by a grinning negro lad +from the stables. No Southern plantation would +be properly equipped without a plentiful supply +of good riding stock, and Mrs. Parsons had bred +some rather famous horses during the time she had +governed her ancestral estate. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen had learned to ride well when +they visited Silver Ranch some years before; so +they were not afraid to mount the spirited animals +that danced and curveted upon the gravel. Mr. +Lomaine, the superintendent of the estate, and +whom the visitors had met the evening before, +came pacing along from the stables upon a great, +black horse, ready to accompany the three girls +upon a tour of inspection. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Lomaine was a very pleasant gentleman +and was dressed in black, wearing a broad-brimmed +black hat, riding puttees, and gauntlets. +The whip he carried was silver-mounted. He had +entire charge of the work on the plantation; but +the old negro, Patrick Henry, Mammy Dilsey’s +husband, had personal care of the house, its belongings, +and the other negroes’ welfare. +</p> +<p> +“Come on, girls,” cried Nettie, showing more +vigor than she usually displayed as she was helped +into her saddle by one of the attendants. “I’m +just aching for a ride.” +</p> +<p> +They rode, however, with side-saddle, and +neither Ruth nor Helen felt as sure of themselves +mounted in this way as they had in the West on +the cow-ponies belonging to Mr. Bill Hicks. +</p> +<p> +The morning, however, was delightful. The +dogs and little negroes cheered the cavalcade as +they passed in sight of the cabins. Had Mr. Lomaine +not ordered them back, a dozen or more of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +both pickaninnies and canines would have followed +“de quality” around the plantation. +</p> +<p> +They rode down from the corn lands to the +cotton fields. Negroes and mules were at work +everywhere. “I do say!” gasped Helen. “I +didn’t know there were so many mules in the whole +world. Funny things! with their shaved tails and +long ears.” +</p> +<p> +“And hind feet with the itch!” exclaimed Ruth. +“I don’t want to get near the <em>dangerous</em> end of +one of those creatures.” +</p> +<p> +The cavalcade followed the roads through the +fields of cotton and down to the river bank. Here +stood the long cotton warehouse and the gin-house +and press, where the cotton is prepared, baled, +and stored for the market. The Merredith cotton +was shipped direct from the plantation’s own +dock, and the buyers came here at the selling time +to inspect and judge the quality of the output. +</p> +<p> +The warehouse boss, a long, lean, yellow man +with a chin whisker that wabbled in a funny way +every time he spoke, came out on the platform to +speak with Mr. Lomaine. There were some hands +inside trundling baled cotton from one end of the +dark warehouse to the other. +</p> +<p> +“Hullo!” exclaimed Mr. Lomaine, within the +girls’ hearing, and after a minute or two of desultory +conversation with the boss. “Hullo! who’s +that white boy you got there, Jimson?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span> +</p> +<p> +“That boy?” returned the man, with a broad +grin. “That’s a little, starvin’ Yank that come +along. I had to feed him; so I thought I’d bettah +put him to work. And he kin work—sho’ kin!” +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s eye would never have been attracted by +the slim figure wheeling the big cotton bale had +she not overheard this speech. A boy from the +North? And he had curly hair. +</p> +<p> +It was a very dilapidated figure, indeed, that +Ruth watched trundle the bale down the shadowy +length of the warehouse. When his load was deposited +he wheeled the hand-truck back for another +bale. His face was red and he was +perspiring. Ruth thought the work must be very +arduous for his slight figure. +</p> +<p> +And then she forgot all about anything but the +identity of the boy. It was Henry Smith—“Curly” +as he was known about Lumberton, New +York. She glanced quickly at her chum. Helen +saw the boy, too, and had recognized him as +quickly as had Ruth herself. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span><a name='chXIII' id='chXIII'></a>CHAPTER XIII—RUTH IS TROUBLED</h2> +<p> +“What shall we do about it?” asked Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Do about what, dear?” +</p> +<p> +“You know very well, Ruthie Fielding! You +saw him as well as I did,” Helen declared. +</p> +<p> +They were riding slowly back to the Big House +after their visit to the river side, and Helen reined +her horse close in beside her chum’s mount. +</p> +<p> +“I know what you mean,” admitted Ruth, placidly. +“Do you think it is necessary for us to say +anything—especially where others might hear?” +</p> +<p> +“But that’s Curly!” whispered Helen, fiercely. +</p> +<p> +“I am sure of it.” +</p> +<p> +“And did you see how he looked? Why, the +boy is in rags. He even looks much worse than +when we last saw him—when he saved me from +that deer at Norfolk,” and Helen began to giggle +at the recollection. +</p> +<p> +“Something has happened to poor Curly since +then,” said Ruth, with a sigh. “I guess he has +found out that it is not so much fun to run away as +he thought.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span> +</p> +<p> +“The man said he was starving,” sighed Helen. +</p> +<p> +“He certainly must have been having a hard +time,” Ruth returned. “I’ll write to his grandmother +again. Her answer to my letter written +at Old Point Comfort has not arrived yet; but I +think she ought to know that we have found Curly +again.” +</p> +<p> +“And tell her he is ragged and hungry. Maybe +it will touch her heart,” begged Helen. “But we +ought to do something for him, Ruth.” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course we should. Why not?” +</p> +<p> +“It might scare him away if he knew that anybody +here had recognized him. It is such a coincidence +that he should come right here to this +Merredith plantation,” Ruth said. “What do you +suppose it means? Could he have known that we +were coming here, and is he trying to find us?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth! He’d know we would help him, +wouldn’t he?” +</p> +<p> +“I didn’t think that Curly was the sort of boy to +hunt up girl’s help in any case,” laughed Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t laugh! it seems so cruel. Hungry!” +breathed Helen. +</p> +<p> +“The boy is learning something,” her chum said, +with decision. “Now that he is really away from +his grandmother, I hope this will teach him a lesson. +I don’t want any harm to come to Curly +Smith; but if he learns that his home is better than +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span> +a loose life among strangers, it will be a good +thing.” +</p> +<p> +“Why, Ruth!” gasped Helen. “You talk just +as though the police were not looking for him.” +</p> +<p> +“Hush! we won’t tell everybody that,” advised +Ruth. “Probably they will never discover him +here, in any case. His crime is not so great in +the eyes of the law.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe he ever did it!” cried Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Neither do I. It seems to me,” Ruth said +gravely, “that if he had helped those men commit +the robbery, he would have gone away from Lumberton +with them.” +</p> +<p> +“That is so!” +</p> +<p> +“And he shows that he has no criminal friends, +or he would not come so far—and all alone. Nor +would he have been so forlorn and hungry, if he +was willing to steal.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth wrote her letter, as she promised; and she +thought a good deal about the boy they had seen +at the cotton warehouse. Suppose Curly Smith +should take up his wanderings from this place? +Suppose the warehouseman, Mr. Jimson, should +discharge him? The man had spoken in rather +an unfeeling way of the “little, hungry Yank,” and +Ruth did not know how good at heart the lanky, +chin-whiskered man was. +</p> +<p> +She determined to do something to make it +reasonably sure that Curly would remain on the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +Merredith plantation until she could hear from his +grandmother. Possibly the trouble in Lumberton +might be settled. If the railroad had not lost +much money—provided it was really proved that +Curly had recklessly helped the thieves—the matter +might be straightened out if Mrs. Sadoc Smith +would refund a portion of the money lost. +</p> +<p> +And by this time Ruth believed the boy’s grandmother +might be willing to do just that. It was +very natural for her to announce in the first flush +of her anger and shame, that she would have nothing +more to do with her grandson, but Ruth was +quite sure she loved him devotedly, and that her +heart would soon be yearning for his graceless +self. +</p> +<p> +Besides, when Mrs. Smith read the letter Ruth +wrote, she would know that the wandering boy +was in trouble and in poverty. As Helen begged +her, Ruth had written these facts “strong.” She +had made out Curly’s case to be as pitiful as possible, +and she hoped for results from Lumberton. +</p> +<p> +Suppose, however, if a forgiving letter came +from Mrs. Sadoc Smith, Curly could not then be +found at the warehouse on the river side? Ruth +thought of this during the heat of the day, when +the family at the Big House rested. That siesta +after luncheon seemed necessary here, in the warm, +moist climate of the river-lands. Ruth awoke +about three o’clock, with an idea for action in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +Curly Smith’s case. She slipped out of the room +without disturbing Helen. +</p> +<p> +Running downstairs she found that nobody had +yet descended. Two of the liveried men rose +yawning from the mahogany settees in the hall. A +downstairs girl dozed with her head on her arms +on the center table in one reception room. +</p> +<p> +“The castle of the Sleeping Beauty,” murmured +Ruth, smiling, and without speaking to any of the +house servants, she ran out. +</p> +<p> +She knew the way to the stables and there were +signs of life there. Two or three of the grooms +were currying horses in the yard, and idly talking +and laughing. One of them threw down the currycomb +and brush and ran immediately to Ruth as +she appeared at the bars. +</p> +<p> +Ruth recognized him as the boy who had held +her horse while she mounted that morning, and +she suspected immediately that he had been instructed +to be at her beck and call if she expressed +any desire for a mount. She asked him if that +was so. +</p> +<p> +“Yes, ma’am. Patrick Henry say fo’ me t’ +‘tend yo’ if yo’ rode.” +</p> +<p> +“Can I ride out any time?” asked the girl. +</p> +<p> +He grinned at her widely. “Sho’ kin, ma’am,” +he said. “Dat little bay mare wid de scah on her +hip, she at yo’ sarbice—an’ so’s Toby.” +</p> +<p> +“You are Toby?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, yes, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +“Then saddle the mare for me at once and—stay! +can you go with me?” +</p> +<p> +“Positive got t’ go wid yo’, miss. Ab-so-lum-lute-ly,” +declared the negro, gravely. “Dem’s ma +’structions f’om Patrick Henry.” +</p> +<p> +“All right, Toby. I want to go back to that +cotton warehouse where we stopped this morning. +I forgot something.” +</p> +<p> +“Ready in a pig’s wink, Miss Ruth,” declared +the young negro, and ran off to saddle the bay +mare and get, for himself, a wicked looking +speckled mule. +</p> +<p> +The bay mare felt just as much refreshed by +her siesta as Ruth did. She started when Ruth was +in the saddle, seemingly with a determination to +break her own record for speed. The girl of the +Red Mill, her hat off, her hair flying, and her eyes +and cheeks aglow, looked back to see what had +become of Toby and the speckled mule. +</p> +<p> +But she need not have worried about them. +Toby had no saddle, and only a rope bridle; but +he clung to the mule like a limpet to a rock, with +his great-toes between two ribs, “tick’lin’ ob ‘im +up!” as he expressed it to the laughing Ruth, when +at last she brought the mare to a halt in sight of +the river. +</p> +<p> +“Dishyer mu-el,” declared Toby, “I s’pec could +beat out dat mare on a long lane; but I got t’ hol’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +Mistah Mu-el in, ’cause Patrick Henry done tol’ +me hit ain’ polite t’ ride ahaid ob de quality.” +</p> +<p> +He dropped respectfully to the rear when they +started again, only calling out to Ruth the turns +to take as they rode on. In half an hour they +were in sight of the cotton warehouse. +</p> +<p> +It was just then that the girl almost drew her +bay mare to a full stop. It smote her suddenly +that she had not made up her mind just how she +should approach Curly Smith, the runaway. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span><a name='chXIV' id='chXIV'></a>CHAPTER XIV—RUTH FINDS A HELPER</h2> +<p> +The warehouse foreman, or “boss,” was sunning +himself on the end platform, just where the +lap, lap, lap of the river drowsed upon his ear +on one side, and the buzzing of the bees drowsed +on the other. He started from his nap at the +clatter of hoofs and beheld one of those “little +Miss Yanks,” as he privately called the visitors to +Merredith, reining in her horse before him, with +the grinning darkey a proper distance behind. +</p> +<p> +“Wal, I’ll be whip-sawed!” ejaculated Mr. Jimson, +under his breath. Then aloud: “Mighty glad +t’ see yo’, miss. It’s a pretty evenin’, ain’t it? +What seems t’ be the trouble?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no trouble at all,” said the girl of the Red +Mill, brightly. “I—I just thought I’d stop and +speak to you.” +</p> +<p> +“That’s handsome of yo’,” agreed the man, but +with a puzzled look. +</p> +<p> +“I wanted another ride,” went on Ruth, “and I +got Toby to take me around this way. Because, +you see, I’m curious.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +</p> +<p> +“Is that so, Miss Ruth?” returned the long and +lanky man. “Seems t’ me we most of us are. +What is yo’ curiosity aimin’ at right now?” +</p> +<p> +Ruth laughed, as she saw his gray eyes twinkling. +But she put on a brave front and said: “I’d +dearly love to see into your cotton storehouse. +Can’t I come in? Are the men working there +now?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes’m. And the boys,” said Mr. Jimson, +drily. +</p> +<p> +Ruth had to flush at that. How the boss had +guessed her errand she did not know; but she believed +he suspected the reason for her visit. It +was a moment or two before she could decide +whether to confide in him or not. +</p> +<p> +Meanwhile, Toby held her stirrup and she +leaped down and mounted the platform. The +negro led the mare and the mule into the shade. +Mr. Jimson still smiled lazily at her, and chewed +a straw. +</p> +<p> +Finally, when Ruth was just before the man, +she smiled one of her friendly, confiding smiles +and he capitulated. +</p> +<p> +“Miss Ruth,” he said, in his soft, Southern +drawl, “Jes’ what is it yo’ want? I saw you an’ +that other little Miss Yank—beggin’ yo’ pahdon—lookin’ +at that rag’muffin I took in yisterday, an’ +I s’pected that you knowed him.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Jimson! how sharp you are.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span> +</p> +<p> +“Pretty sharp,” admitted the boss, with a sly +smile. “I’d like t’ know what he’s done.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s run away from home,” Ruth said +quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as. They mos’ allus do. But what did he +do ’fore he ran away, Miss Ruth?” +</p> +<p> +The man’s dry, crooked smile held assurance +in it. Ruth realized that if she wanted his help—and +she did—she must be more open with Mr. +Jimson. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t believe that he has really done anything +very bad,” Ruth said gravely. “It was what +he was accused of and the punishment threatening +him, which made Curly run away.” +</p> +<p> +“Curly?” repeated Jimson. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. That’s what we call him. His name is +Henry Smith.” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be whip-sawed!” exclaimed Jimson. “I +like that boy. He give me his real name—he sho’ +did. Curly Smith he said ’twas. An’ yit, <em>that</em>‘d +be as good a disguise as he could ha’ thunk up, +mebbe. Smith’s a mighty common name, ain’t it?” +</p> +<p> +“Curly always was a frank and truthful boy. +But he was full of mischief.” +</p> +<p> +She knew that she had Mr. Jimson’s sympathy +for the boy now, so she began to tell him all about +Curly. The warehouse boss listened without interruption +save for an occasional, “sho’, now!” +or “you don’t say!” Her own and Helen’s adventures +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +since they had left home to come South, +seemed to amuse Mr. Jimson a great deal, too. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be whip-sawed!” he exclaimed, at last. +“You little Miss Yanks are the beatenes’—I declar’! +Never heard tell of sech gals as you are, +travelin’ about alone—jest as perky as young +pa’tridges! Sho’ now!” +</p> +<p> +“My chum and I have gone about a good deal +alone. We don’t think it so very strange. ‘Most +always my friend’s twin brother is with us.” +</p> +<p> +“Wal, that don’t make so much difference,” said +Mr. Jimson. “Her twin brother? Is he older’n +she is?” he added, quite innocently. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no,” Ruth admitted, stifling a desire to +laugh. “My chum and I feel quite confident of +finding our way about all right.” +</p> +<p> +“Sho’ now! I got a gal at home that’s bigger’n +older’n you and Miss Helen and her maw wouldn’t +trust her t’ go t’ the Big House for a drawin’ of +tea. She’d plumb git lost,” chuckled Mr. Jimson. +“But now! about this boy. What d’ yo’ want t’ +do about him?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Jimson!” Ruth cried. “I do so want +to be sure that Curly stays here until I can hear +from his grandmother. I have written to her and +begged her to take him back——” +</p> +<p> +“An’ git him grabbed by the police?” demanded +Jimson. +</p> +<p> +“He ought to go back and fight it out,” Ruth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +declared firmly. “He ought not to knock about +the world, and fall into bad associations as he may, +and come to harm. I don’t believe he will be +punished if he is not guilty.” +</p> +<p> +“It don’t a-tall matter whether a man’s innocent +or guilty,” objected Mr. Jimson. “If the police +is after him, he’s jest natcher’ly <em>scared</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose so,” Ruth admitted. “I would run +away myself, I suppose. But I want Curly to go +back to Mrs. Sadoc Smith.” +</p> +<p> +“Jest as you say, Miss Ruth. I’ll hold on to +him,” the warehouse boss promised. +</p> +<p> +“I hope he doesn’t see us girls and get frightened, +thinking that we’ll tell on him,” Ruth said. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll see to it that he doesn’t skedaddle,” Mr. +Jimson assured her. “He’s sleepin’ at my shack +nights. I’ll lock him in his room.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth laughed at that, and rather ruefully. +“That’s what his grandmother did,” she observed. +“But it didn’t do any good, you see. He got out +of the window and went over the shed roof to +the ground. And it was a twenty-foot drop, too.” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t yo’ fret,” said Mr. Jimson. “The windah +of his room is barred. And he’d half t’ drop +into the river. By the looks of things,” he added, +cocking his eye at the treetops, “there’s goin’ to +be plenty of water in this river pretty soon.” +</p> +<p> +Jimson was a prophet. That very night it began +to rain. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span><a name='chXV' id='chXV'></a>CHAPTER XV—THE RIDE TO HOLLOWAYS</h2> +<p> +Being kept indoors by the rain was not altogether +a privation. At least, the three girls +staying at the Big House did not find it such. +</p> +<p> +They became acquainted with Mammy Dilsey +during that first day of rain. At least, the girls +from the North did; Nettie had been a pet of the +old woman for years. +</p> +<p> +Dilsey was full of old-time stories—just such +stories as were calculated to enthrall girls of the +age of Ruth Fielding and her friends. For even +Ruth, with all her good sense and soberness, loved +to hear of pretty ladies, in pretty frocks, and with +beautifully dressed gentlemen dancing attendance +upon them, such as in the old times often filled +Merredith House. +</p> +<p> +Mammy Dilsey insisted she could remember +when men really dressed in satin and lace, and +wore wonderfully fluted shirt-bosoms, and fine +linen and broadcloth. The pre-Civil War ladies, +of course, with their crinolines, and tiny bonnets, +and enormous shade-hats must have looked really +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +beautiful. The girls listened to the tales of the +parties at the Big House almost breathlessly. +</p> +<p> +“An’ dat time de Gov’nor come—de <em>two</em> +Gov’nors come,” sighed Mammy Dilsey. “De +Gov’nor ob No’th Ca’lina an’ de Gov’nor ob So’th +Ca’lina——” +</p> +<p> +“I know what they <em>said</em> to each other—those +two governors,” interrupted Helen, her eyes dancing. +“My father told me.” +</p> +<p> +“I dunno wot dey <em>said</em>,” said Mammy Dilsey, +who did not know the old joke. “But I sho’ knows +how dey <em>looked</em>. Dey was bof such big, upstandin’ +sort o’ men. My-oh-my! Ah tells yo’, +chillen, dey was a big <em>breed</em> o’ men in dese pahts +in dem days—sho’ was. +</p> +<p> +“Ma Miss Rachel, she been a li’le tinty gal in +dem days. Ah car’s her in ma arms ‘mos’ de time. +Her maw was weakly-like. An’ I could walk up +an’ down de end o’ dis big verandah wid dat mite +ob a baby, an’ see all dat went on. +</p> +<p> +“My-oh-my! de splendid car’ages, an’ de beautiful +horses, an’ de fine ladies an’ gemmen—dere +nebber’ll be nothin’ like it fo’ ol’ Mammy Dilsey +t’ see ag’in twill she gits t’ dat Hebenly sho’ an’ +see dat angel band wot de Good Book talks about.” +</p> +<p> +Incidents of this great party at the Merredith +plantation, and of other famous entertainments +there, were still as fresh in Mammy Dilsey’s mind +as the occurrences of yesterday. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, goodness,” sighed Helen, “there never +will be any fun for girls again. And nowadays +the boys only care to go to baseball games, or to +go hunting and fishing. They refuse to come at +<em>our</em> beck and call as they used to in these times +Mammy Dilsey tells about.” +</p> +<p> +“I guess we make <em>ourselves</em> too much like <em>them</em>selves,” +laughed Ruth. “That’s why the boys of +to-day are different. If chivalry is dead, we +women folks have killed it.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see why,” pouted Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dear!” cried her chum. “You want to +have your cake and eat it, too. It can’t be done. +If we girls want the boys to be gallant and dance +attendance on us, and cater to our whims—as they +certainly did in our grandmothers’ days—we must +not be rough and ready friends with them: play +golf, tennis, swim, run, bat balls, and—and talk +slang—the equal of our boy friends in every particular.” +</p> +<p> +“You’re so funny, Ruthie,” laughed Nettie. +</p> +<p> +“Lecture by Miss Ruth Fielding, the famous +woman’s rights advocate,” groaned Helen. +</p> +<p> +“I am not sure I advocate it, my dear,” sighed +Ruth. “‘I, too, would love and live in Arcady.’” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! hear her exude sentiment,” gasped +Helen. “Who ever thought to live till <em>that</em> wonder +was born?” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe, after all, Ruth has the right idea,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +said Nettie, timidly. “My cousin Mapes says +that he finds lots of girls who are ‘good fellows’; +but that when he marries he doesn’t want to marry +a ‘good fellow,’ but a <em>wife</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“Horrid thing!” Helen declared. “I don’t like +your cousin Mapes, Nettie.” +</p> +<p> +“I am not sure that a girl might not, after all, +fill your cousin’s ‘bill of particulars,’ if she would,” +Ruth said, laughing. “‘Friend Wife’ can still be +a good comrade, and darn her husband’s socks. I +guess, after all, not many young fellows would +want to marry the kind of girl his grandmother +was.” +</p> +<p> +The trio of girls did not spend all their rainy +hours with Mammy Dilsey, or in such discussions +as the above. Besides, now and then the sun +broke through the clouds and then the whole world +seemed to steam. +</p> +<p> +The girls had the big porch to exercise upon, +and as soon as it promised any decided change in +the weather there were plans for new activities. +</p> +<p> +Across the river was a place called Holloways—actually +a small island. It was quite a resort in +the summer, there being a hotel and several cottages, +occupied by Georgetown and Charleston +people through the hot season. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Parsons thought that her young guests +would become woefully lonely and “fair ill of +Merredith,” if they did not soon have some social +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span> +diversion, so it was planned to go to Holloways +to the weekend “hop” held by the hotel guests +and cottagers. +</p> +<p> +This was nothing like a public dance. Mrs. +Parsons would not have approved of that. But +the little coterie of hotel guests and the neighbors +arranged very pleasant parties which the mistress +of the Merredith plantation was not averse to her +young folks attending. +</p> +<p> +As it happened, she herself could not go. A +telegram from her lawyers in Charleston called +Mrs. Parsons to the city only a few hours before +the time set for the party to start for Holloways. +</p> +<p> +“Now, listen!” cried Aunt Rachel. “You +girls shall not be disappointed—no, indeed! Mrs. +Holloway will herself act as your chaperon and +will take good care of you. We should remain +at her hotel over night, in any case.” +</p> +<p> +“But we won’t have half so much fun if you +don’t go, Mrs. Parsons,” Helen said. +</p> +<p> +“Nonsense! nonsense! what trio of girls was +ever enamored of a strict duenna like me?” and +Mrs. Parsons laughed. “I’ll send one of the boys +on ahead with a note to Mrs. Holloway to look +out for you and Jeffreys will drive you over and +come after you to-morrow noon. I believe in girls +sleeping till noon after a party.” +</p> +<p> +“But how are you going to the station, Aunt +Rachel?” cried Nettie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll ride Nordeck. And John shall ride after +me and bring the horse back. Now, scatter to do +your own primping, girls, and let Mammy Dilsey +’tend to me.” +</p> +<p> +In half an hour Mrs. Parsons was off—such +need was there for haste. She went on horseback +with a single retainer, as she said, riding at her +heels. Although the weather appeared to have +cleared permanently, the creeks were up and Mr. +Lomaine reported the river already swollen. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Parsons had been wise to ride horseback; +a carriage might not have got safely through some +of the fords she would be obliged to cross between +the plantation and the railroad station. +</p> +<p> +On the other hand, the girls bound for Holloways +were not likely to be held back, for there +were bridges instead of fords. All in their party +finery, Ruth and Helen and Nettie started away +from the Big House in the roomy family carriage, +and with them went Norma, Nettie’s own little +colored maid, with her sewing kit and extra wraps. +</p> +<p> +The road to the bridge which spanned the wide +river led directly past the cotton warehouse. Ruth +had not been there since her conversation with +Mr. Jimson; but the warehouse boss had sent her +word twice that Curly Smith seemed to be contented +and desired to remain. +</p> +<p> +Both of the Northern girls were extremely +anxious to see the boy from Lumberton. Ruth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +looked every day, now, for a letter from Mrs. +Sadoc Smith; and she hoped the stern old woman +would relent and ask her grandson to return. +</p> +<p> +The river was, as Mr. Lomaine had said, very +high. The brown, muddy current was littered +with logs, uprooted trees, fence rails, pig-pens, hen +houses, and other light litter wrenched from the +banks during the last few days. Ruth said it +looked quite as angry as the Lumano, at the Red +Mill, when there was a flood. +</p> +<p> +Jeffreys had brought the carriage to a full stop +on the bank overlooking the stream and the warehouse. +The water surged almost level with the +shipping platform. There had been a reason for +Mr. Jimson’s shifting all the cotton in storage +to the upper end of the huge building. He had +foreseen this rain and feared a flood. +</p> +<p> +Suddenly, just as Jeffreys was about to drive on, +Helen uttered a scream, and pointed to a drifting +hencoop. +</p> +<p> +“See! See that poor thing!” she cried. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the matter now, honey?” asked Nettie. +“I don’t see anything.” +</p> +<p> +“On the roof of that coop,” Ruth said quickly +espying what her chum saw. “The poor cat!” +</p> +<p> +“Where is there a cat?” cried Nettie, anxiously. +She was a little near-sighted and could not focus +her gaze upon the small object on the raft as +quickly as the chums from the North. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +</p> +<p> +“Dear me, Nettie!” cried Helen, in exasperation. +“If you met a bear he’d have to bite you +before you’d know he was there.” +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” drawled the Southern girl, “I am +not being chased and knocked down by deer——Oh! +I see the poor kitty.” +</p> +<p> +“I should hope you did!” Helen said. “And +it’s going to be drowned!” +</p> +<p> +“No, no,” Ruth said. “I hope not. Can’t it +be brought ashore? See! that coop is swinging +into an eddy.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Ruthie Fielding!” cried Helen, “you’re +not going to jump overboard in your party dress, +and try to get that poor cat, I should hope!” +</p> +<p> +“There’s a boy who can get her!” exclaimed +Nettie, standing up in the carriage, and being able +to see well enough to espy a figure on a small raft +down by the loading dock. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Nettie! ask him to try!” gasped Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Hey, boy!” called Nettie. “Can’t you save +that poor cat for us?” +</p> +<p> +The boy turned, and both Ruth and Helen +recognized the curly head—if not the shockingly +ragged garments—of Henry Smith. He waved a +reassuring hand and pushed off from the platform. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jimson came running from the interior of +the warehouse and shouted after him. +</p> +<p> +“There! I hope we haven’t got him into more +trouble,” mourned Ruth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +</p> +<p> +“And he can’t get the cat,” wailed Helen, in a +moment. “The current is taking the raft clear +out into midstream.” +</p> +<p> +Curly was working vigorously with the single +sweep, however, and he finally brought the cumbersome +craft to the edge of the eddy where the +hencoop with its frightened passenger whirled +under the high bank. +</p> +<p> +“Yo’ kyant git that cat, you fool boy!” bawled +Jimson. “And yo’ll lose my raft.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Jimson!” cried Nettie. “We do want +him to save that cat if he can.” +</p> +<p> +“But he’ll lose a mighty good oar, an’ that +raft,” complained the boss. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind,” said Nettie, firmly. “You can +make another oar and another raft. But how are +you going to make another cat?” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be whip-sawed!” exclaimed the long and +lanky man. “Who ever heard the like of that? +There’s enough cats come natcher’lly without nobody’s +wantin’ t’ make none.” +</p> +<p> +The girls laughed at this, but they were anxious +about the cat. And, the next moment, they began +to be anxious about the boy. +</p> +<p> +Curly threw away the oar and plunged right +into the eddy. He had little clothing on, and no +shoes, so he was not greatly trammeled in swimming +to the drifting hencoop. But once there, how +would he get the cat ashore? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span> +</p> +<p> +However, the boy went about his task in quite +a manful manner. He climbed up, got one arm +hooked over the roof and reached for the wet and +frightened cat. The poor creature was so despairing +that she could not even use her claws in defense, +and Curly pulled her off her perch and set +her on his shoulder. +</p> +<p> +There she clung trembling, and when Curly +let himself down into the water again she only +uttered a wailing, “Me-e-ou!” and did not try +to scratch him. He struck out for the shore, keeping +his shoulders well out of the water, and after +a fight of a minute or two, brought the cat to +land. +</p> +<p> +Once within reach of the land, the cat leaped +ashore and darted into the bushes; while Jimson +helped the breathless Curly to land. +</p> +<p> +“There! yo’ reckless creatuah!” exclaimed the +man. “I’ve seen folks drown in a current no +worse than that. Stan’ up an’ make yo’ bow t’ +Miss Nettie, here,” and he turned to Nettie, who +had got out of the carriage in her interest. +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen stayed back. They did not +wish to thrust themselves on the notice of Curly +Smith. Nettie told Jimson to see that the saturated +boy had a new outfit. +</p> +<p> +“And don’t let him get away till Aunt Rachel +returns from Charleston and sees him. She’ll +want to do something for him, I know,” she added. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +</p> +<p> +The boy glanced shyly up at the girls and suddenly +caught sight of Ruth and Helen in the background. +Like a shot he wheeled and ran into the +bushes. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! catch him!” gasped Ruth. “Don’t let +him run away, Mr. Jimson.” +</p> +<p> +“He’s streakin’ it for my shack, I reckon,” said +the boss. “Mis Jimson’ll find him some old duds +of mine to put on.” +</p> +<p> +“But maybe he won’t come back,” said Helen, +likewise anxious. +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as he will. I ain’t paid him fo’ his wo’k +here,” chuckled Jimson. “He’ll stay a while +longah. Don’t fret about that.” +</p> +<p> +Nettie got back into the carriage, which went +on toward the bridge. As they crossed the long +span the girls saw that the current was roaring +between the piers and that much rubbish was held +upstream by the bridge. The bridge shook under +the blows of the logs and other debris which +charged against it. +</p> +<p> +“My! this is dangerous!” cried Helen. “Suppose +the bridge should give way?” +</p> +<p> +“Then we would not get home very easily,” +laughed Nettie. +</p> +<p> +It was not a laughing matter, however, when +they came later to the shorter span that bridged +the back water between the island where the hotel +was situated, and the shore of the river. Here +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +the rough current was level with the plank flooring +of the bridge, and as the carriage rattled over, +the girls could feel that the planks were almost +ready to float away. +</p> +<p> +“We’ll be marooned on this island,” said Ruth, +“if the water rises much higher.” +</p> +<p> +“Who cares?” laughed Nettie, to whom it was +all an exciting adventure and nothing more. With +all her natural timidity she did not look ahead +very far. +</p> +<p> +Jeffreys and the footman were in a hurry to get +back. The instant the girls and their little maid +got out at the hotel steps, the coachman turned the +horses and hastened away. +</p> +<p> +A little, smiling woman in a trailing gown came +down the steps to welcome the party from Merredith. +“I am Mrs. Holloway,” she said. “I am +glad to see you, girls. Jake reached here about +an hour ago and said Mrs. Parsons could not +come. It is to be deplored; but it need not subtract +any from your pleasure on the occasion. +</p> +<p> +“Come in—do,” she added. “I will show you +to your rooms.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span><a name='chXVI' id='chXVI'></a>CHAPTER XVI—THE “HOP”</h2> +<p> +It was not a large hotel, and altogether it could +not have housed more than fifty guests. But in +the dusk, as the girls from Merredith had ridden +over in the carriage, they could see that there were +several attractive cottages on the island. There +was a deal of life about the caravansary. +</p> +<p> +Now there was just time for Ruth Fielding and +her friends to take a peep in the mirror before +running down at the sound of the dinner gong to +take the places Mrs. Holloway had pointed out +to them in the dining room. +</p> +<p> +The other guests came trooping in from the +porches and from their rooms—most of the matrons +and young girls already in their party frocks, +like the girls from Merredith. Mrs. Holloway +found an opportunity to introduce the trio of +friends to several people, while Nettie Parsons was +already known to many of the matrons present. +</p> +<p> +The affair was to begin early. Indeed, the girls +heard the fiddles tuning up before dinner was +ended. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh! hear that fiddle. Doesn’t it make your +feet fairly <em>itch</em>?” cried Nettie. Nettie, like most +Southern girls, loved dancing. +</p> +<p> +There were some Virginia reels and some +square dances, and all, old and young, joined in +these. The reels were a general romp, it was +true; but the fun and frolic were of the most harmless +character. +</p> +<p> +The master of ceremonies called out the changes +in a resonant voice and all—old and young—danced +the square dance with hearty enjoyment. +The girls from the North had never seen quite +such a party as this; but they enjoyed it hugely. +They were not allowed to be without partners for +any dance; and the boys introduced to Ruth and +Helen were nice and polite and—most of them—danced +well. +</p> +<p> +“Learning to dance seems to be more common +among Southern boys than up North,” Helen said. +“Even Tom says he <em>hates</em> dancing. And it’s sometimes +hard to get good partners at the school +dances at Briarwood.” +</p> +<p> +“I think we have our boys down here better +trained,” said Nettie, smiling. +</p> +<p> +The girls heard, as the time passed, several +people expressing their wonder that certain guests +from the mainland had not arrived. The dancing +floor, which occupied more than half the lower +floor of the hotel, was by no means crowded, although +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span> +every white person on the island was in +attendance—either dancing or looking on. +</p> +<p> +At the back, the gallery was crowded with +blacks, their shining faces thrust in at the windows +to watch the white folk. In fact, the whole population +of Holloway Island was at the hotel. +</p> +<p> +The last few guests who had arrived from the +cottages came under umbrellas as it had begun to +rain again. When the fiddles stopped they could +hear the drumming of the rain on the porch roofs. +</p> +<p> +“I’m glad we aren’t obliged to go home to-night,” +said Nettie, with a little shiver, as she stood +with her friends near a porch window during an +intermission. “Hear that rain pouring down!” +</p> +<p> +“And how do you suppose the bridges are?” +asked Helen. +</p> +<p> +“There! I reckon that’s why those folks from +the other shore didn’t get here,” Nettie said. “I +shouldn’t wonder if the planks of the old bridge +had floated away.” +</p> +<p> +“Whoo!” Helen cried. “How are <em>we</em> going to +get home?” +</p> +<p> +“By boat, maybe,” laughed Ruth. “Don’t +worry. To-morrow is another day.” +</p> +<p> +And just as she said this the hotel was jarred +suddenly, throughout its every beam and girder! +The fiddles had just started again. They stopped. +For a moment not a sound broke the startled silence +in the ballroom. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +</p> +<p> +Then the building shook again. There was an +unmistakable thumping at the up-river end of the +building. The thumping was repeated. +</p> +<p> +“Something’s broken loose!” exclaimed Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Let’s see what it means!” exclaimed Ruth, and +she darted out of the long window. +</p> +<p> +Her chum and Nettie followed her. But when +they found themselves splashing through water +which had risen over the porch flooring, almost +ankle deep, Nettie squealed and ran back. Helen +followed Ruth to the upper end of the porch. The +oil lamps burning there revealed a sight that both +amazed and terrified the girls from the North. +</p> +<p> +The river had risen over its banks. It surged +about the front of the hotel, but had not surrounded +it, for the land at the back was higher. +</p> +<p> +In the semi-darkness, however, the girls saw a +large object looming above the porch roof, and +it again struck against the hotel. It was a light +cottage that had been raised from its foundation +and swept by the current against the larger building. +</p> +<p> +Again it crashed into the corner of the hotel. +The roof of the porch was wrecked at this corner +by the heavy blow. Windows crashed and servants +began to scream. Ruth clutched Helen and +drew her back against the wall as the chimney-bricks +of the drifting cottage fell through the +broken roof of the veranda. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span><a name='chXVII' id='chXVII'></a>CHAPTER XVII—THE FLOOD RISES</h2> +<p> +There was a doorway near at hand—the floor +of the house being one step higher than the porch +which was now flooded. Ruth was just about to +drag her chum into this doorway when a figure +plunged out of it—a thin, graceless figure in a +rain-garment of some kind—and little else, as it +proved. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! oh! oh!” screamed the stranger as she +spattered into the water in her slippered feet. “I +am killed! I am drowned!” +</p> +<p> +Helen began actually to giggle. It did not seem +so tragic to her that the hotel on the island should +become suddenly surrounded by water, or be battered +by drifting buildings which the flood had +uprooted. The surprise and fright the woman +expressed as she halted on the porch, was calculated +to arouse one’s laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, oh, oh!” said the woman, more feebly. +</p> +<p> +“Come right back into the house—do!” cried +Ruth. “You won’t get wet there.” +</p> +<p> +“But the house is falling down!” gasped the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +woman, and as she turned the lamplight from the +hall revealed her features, and Helen uttered a +stifled cry. +</p> +<p> +She recognized the woman’s face. So did Ruth, +and amazement possessed both the girls. There +was no mistaking the features of the irritable, +nervous teacher from New England, Miss Miggs! +</p> +<p> +“Do come into the house, Miss Miggs,” urged +Ruth. “It isn’t going to fall yet.” +</p> +<p> +“How do you know?” snapped the school +teacher, as obstinate as ever. +</p> +<p> +The cottage that had been battering the corner +of the porch was now torn away by the river and +swept on, down the current. There sounded a +great hullabaloo from the ballroom. Although +the river had not yet risen as high as the dancing +floor, the frightened revelers saw that the flood +was fairly upon them. At the back the darkies +added their cries to the screams of the hysterical +guests. +</p> +<p> +Another drifting object struck and jarred the +hotel. Miss Miggs repeated her scream of fear, +and darted into the hall with the same impetuosity +with which she had darted out. +</p> +<p> +“Who are you girls?” she demanded, peering +at Ruth and Helen closely, for she did not wear +her spectacles. “Haven’t I seen you before? I +declare! you’re the girls who stole my ticket—the +idea!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +</p> +<p> +At the moment—and in time to hear this accusation—Mrs. +Holloway appeared from down the +hall. “Oh, Martha!” she cried. “Are you out +of your bed?” +</p> +<p> +She gave the two girls from the North a sharp +look as she spoke to the teacher; but this was no +time for an explanation of Miss Miggs’ remark. +The school teacher immediately opened a volley +of complaints: +</p> +<p> +“Well, I must say, Cousin Lydia, if I were you +I’d build my house on some secure foundation. +And calling it a hotel, too! My mercy me! the +whole thing will be down like a house of cards +in ten minutes, and we shall be drowned.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no, Cousin Martha,” said the Southern +woman. “We shall be all right. The river will +not rise much higher, and it will never tear the +hotel from its base. It is too large.” +</p> +<p> +“Look at these other houses floating away, +Lydia Holloway!” screamed Miss Miggs. +</p> +<p> +“But they are only the huts from along +shore——” +</p> +<p> +Her statement was interrupted by a terrific +shock the hotel suffered as a good-sized cottage—one +of the nearest of the summer colony—smashed +against the hotel, rebounded, and drifted away +down stream. +</p> +<p> +The two women and the two girls were flung +together in a clinging group for half a minute. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +Then Miss Martha Miggs tore herself away. +“Let go of me, you impudent young minxes!” she +cried. “Are you trying to rob me again?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! the horrid thing!” gasped Helen; but +Ruth kept her lips closed. +</p> +<p> +She knew anything they could say would make +a bad matter worse. Already the hotel proprietor’s +wife was looking at them very doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +It had stopped raining, but the damp wind swept +into the open door and chilled the girls in their +thin frocks. Mrs. Holloway saw this and remembered +that she had to answer to Mrs. Parsons for +her guests’ well being. +</p> +<p> +“Come back into this room,” she commanded, +and led Miss Miggs first by the arm into an unlighted +parlor. The windows looked up the river, +and as the quartette reached the middle of the +room, the unhappy school teacher emitted another +shriek and pointed out of the nearest unshaded +window. +</p> +<p> +“What is the matter with you now, Martha +Miggs?” demanded Mrs. Holloway, in some exasperation. +“If I had known you were in such an +hysterical, nervous state, I would not have invited +you down here—and sent your ticket and all—I +assure you. I never saw such a person for startling +one.” +</p> +<p> +“And lots of good the ticket did—with these +girls stealing it from me,” snapped Miss Miggs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +“But look at that house next to yours. There! +see it heave? And there’s a lighted lamp in that +room.” +</p> +<p> +Everybody saw the peril which the school +teacher had observed. A lamp stood on the center +table in the parlor of the house next. This house +was set on a lower foundation than the hotel and +the rising river, surging about it, had begun to +loosen it. +</p> +<p> +Even as they looked, the house tipped perceptibly, +and the lighted lamp fell from the table to +the floor. +</p> +<p> +The burning oil was scattered about the room. +Although everything was saturated with rain outside, +the interior of the cottage began to burn +furiously and the conflagration would soon endanger +the hotel itself. +</p> +<p> +Helen broke down and began to cry. Ruth put +her arm about her chum and tried to soothe her. +Some of the men came charging into the room, +thinking by the sudden flare of the conflagration, +that this end of the hotel was already on fire. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear! Goodness, me!” shrieked the school +teacher, taking thought of her dishabille, and she +turned at once and fled upstairs. Mrs. Holloway +quietly fainted in an adjacent, comfortable chair. +The men went out on the porch to see if they could +reach the burning cottage; but the water was too +deep and too swift between the two structures. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +</p> +<p> +Ruth carefully attended the woman who had +fainted. What had become of Miss Miggs she +did not know. Mrs. Holloway regained consciousness +very suddenly. She looked up at Ruth, recognized +her, and shrank away from the girl of the +Red Mill. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t—don’t,” she gasped. “I’m all right.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Holloway’s hand went to the bosom of +her gown, she fumbled there a minute, and then +brought forth her purse. The feel of the money +in it seemed to reassure her; but Ruth knew what +the gesture meant. What she had heard her +cousin say had impressed the hotel keeper’s wife +strongly. +</p> +<p> +Hearing the school teacher accuse the two +Northern girls of stealing from her, Mrs. Holloway +considered herself unsafe in Ruth’s hands. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, come away,” urged Helen, who had likewise +observed the woman’s action. “These people +make me ill. I wish we were back North again +among our own kind.” +</p> +<p> +“Hush!” warned Ruth. But in secret she felt +justified in making the same wish as her chum. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span><a name='chXVIII' id='chXVIII'></a>CHAPTER XVIII—ACROSS THE RIVER</h2> +<p> +As the night shut down and the rain began +again, the party at Holloway’s had paid no attention +to the rising flood. But on the other side +of the river the increasing depth of the water was +narrowly watched. +</p> +<p> +“It’s the biggest rise she’s showed since Adam +was a small boy!” Mr. Jimson declared. “Looks +like she’d make a clean sweep of some of these +bottomland farms below yere. Mr. Lomaine’s +goin’ t’ lose cash-dollars befo’ she’s through kickin’ +up her heels—yo’ take it from me!” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Jimson’s audience consisted of his immediate +family—a wife, lank like himself, and six +white-haired, lank children, like six human steps, +from the little toddler, hanging to the table-cloth +and so getting his balance, to a lank girl of fifteen +or thereabouts. In addition, there was Curly +Smith. +</p> +<p> +Curly had been taken right into the Jimson family +when he had first come along on a flatboat, the +crew of which had treated him so badly that he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span> +left it and applied at the cotton warehouse for +work. He worked every day beyond his strength, +if the truth were told, and for very poor pay; but +he was glad of decent housing. +</p> +<p> +The world had never used a runaway worse than +it had used Curly. All the way down the river +from Pee Dee—where his money had run out, and +his transportation, too—the boy had been knocked +about. And farther north, as Ruth Fielding and +Helen knew, Curly Smith’s path had not been +strewn with roses. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, if for no other reason, the boy who +had run away to escape arrest, would have remained +with Mr. Jimson. The latter’s rough good +nature seemed the friendliest thing Curly had ever +known; but he was scared when he recognized +Ruth and Helen and knew that they were the “little +Miss Yanks” of whom he had heard the cotton +warehouse boss speak. +</p> +<p> +Here were two girls who knew him—knew him +well when he was at home—right in the very part +of Dixie in which unwise Curly Smith had taken +refuge. Curly had no idea while coming down on +the New Union Line boat to Norfolk, that Ruth +and Helen were aboard; nor had he recognized +Helen when he went to her rescue at the City Park +zoo when the stag had so startled her. +</p> +<p> +In the first place, he did not know that any of +the Briarwood Hall girls who had made their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span> +home with his grandmother for a few weeks in +the spring, had any intention of coming down to +the Land of Cotton for a part of their summer vacation. +</p> +<p> +It was a distinct shock to Curly when he brought +the half-drowned cat ashore that afternoon, to +see Ruth and Helen as the guests of Nettie Parsons. +He did not know that the girls recognized +him; but he was quite sure they would see him if +he continued to linger in the vicinity. +</p> +<p> +Therefore, Curly’s mind was more taken up +with plans for getting away from Mr. Jimson than +it was with the boss’ remarks about the rising +river. Not until some time after supper one of +the children ran in with the announcement that +there was a “big fire acrosst the river” was the +boy shaken out of his secret ponderings. +</p> +<p> +“That’s got t’ be the hotel, I’ll be whip-sawed if +’taint!” declared Mr. Jimson, starting out into the +now drizzling rain without his hat. +</p> +<p> +Curly followed, because the rest of the family +showed interest; but he really did not care. What +was a burning hotel to him? Then he heard Mrs. +Jimson say: +</p> +<p> +“Ye don’t mean that’s Holloway’s, Jimson?” +</p> +<p> +“That’s what she be.” +</p> +<p> +“And the bridge is down by this time.” +</p> +<p> +“Sho’s yo’ bawn, Almiry. An’ boats swep’ +away, too.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +</p> +<p> +“An’ like enough the water’s clean up over that +islan’. My land, Jimson! that’ll be dretful. Them +folks is all caught like rats in a trap. Treed by +the river—an’ the hotel afire.” +</p> +<p> +“It looks like the up-river end of the hotel,” +said her husband. +</p> +<p> +“My land! what’ll Mrs. Parsons say? If anything +happens to her niece an’ them other +gals——” +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be whip-sawed! them little Miss Yanks is +right there, ain’t they?” +</p> +<p> +At that, Curly Smith woke up. “Say!” he cried. +“Are Ruth Fielding and Helen Cameron at that +hotel that’s afire?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh?” demanded Jimson. “Them little Miss +Yanks?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> +<p> +“If they stuck to Miss Nettie, they are,” agreed +the warehouse boss. “And Jeffreys said he left +’em there, when he come back jest ‘fo’ supper.” +</p> +<p> +“Those girls in that burning building?” repeated +Curly. “Say, Mr. Jimson! you aren’t going to +stand here and do nothing about it, are you?” +</p> +<p> +“Wal! what d’ye reckon we kin do?” asked the +man, scratching his head in a puzzled way. +“There’s more’n we-uns over there to rescue the +ladies.” +</p> +<p> +“And the river up all around them? And no +boats?” demanded Curly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +</p> +<p> +“Sho’! I never thought of that,” admitted the +man. “Here’s this old bateau yere——” +</p> +<p> +“Can you and me row it?” asked Curly, sharply. +</p> +<p> +“Great grief! No!” exclaimed Jimson. “Not +in a thousand years!” +</p> +<p> +“Can’t we get some of the colored men to help?” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon we could. The hotel’s more’n a +mile below yere on the other side and we might +strike off across the river slantin’ and hit the island,” +Jimson said slowly. +</p> +<p> +“Le’s try it, then!” cried the excited boy. “I’ll +run stir up the negroes—shall I?” +</p> +<p> +“Better let me do that,” said Jimson, with more +firmness. “Almiry! gimme my hat. If we kin do +anything to help ’em——” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Paw! look at them flames!” cried one of +the children. +</p> +<p> +The fire seemed to shoot up suddenly in a pillar +of flame and smoke. It had burst through the +upper floor of the cottage and was now writhing +out the chimney; but from this side of the river +it still seemed to be the hotel itself that was ablaze. +</p> +<p> +Curly had forgotten his idea of running away—for +the present, at least. He remembered what a +“good sport” (as he expressed it) Ruth Fielding +was, and how she and her chum might be in danger +across there at Holloways. +</p> +<p> +If the hotel burned, where would the people go +who were in it? With the river rising momentarily, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span> +and threatening every small structure along its +banks with destruction, and no boats at hand, +surely the situation of the people in the hotel must +be serious. +</p> +<p> +Curly went down to the edge of the water and +found the big bateau. There were huge sweeps +for it, and four could be used to propel the craft, +while a fifth was needed to steer with. +</p> +<p> +The boy got these out and arranged everything +for the start. When Jimson came back with four +lusty negroes—all hands from the warehouse +and gin-house—Curly was impatiently waiting for +them. The fire across the river had assumed +greater proportions. +</p> +<p> +“That ain’t the hotel, boss,” said one of the +negroes, with assurance. +</p> +<p> +“What is it, then?” demanded Jimson. +</p> +<p> +“It’s got t’ be the cottage dishyer side ob the +hotel. But, fo’ goodness’ sake! de hotel’s gwine t’ +burn, too.” +</p> +<p> +“And all them folkses in hit!” groaned another. +</p> +<p> +“Shut up and come on!” commanded Jimson. +“We’ll git acrosst and see what’s what.” +</p> +<p> +“If we <em>kin</em> git acrosst,” grumbled another of the +men. “Looks mighty spasmdous t’ <em>me</em>. Dat +watah’s sho’ high.” +</p> +<p> +But Curly was casting off the mooring, and in a +moment the big, clumsy boat swung out into the +current. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span><a name='chXIX' id='chXIX'></a>CHAPTER XIX—“IF AUNT RACHEL WERE ONLY HERE!”</h2> +<p> +As soon as they were sure Mrs. Holloway had +quite recovered from her fainting spell, Ruth +Fielding and Helen wished to get as far away from +the fire as possible. +</p> +<p> +There was nothing they could do, of course, to +help put out the blaze. Nor did it seem possible +for the men who had come from the ballroom to +do anything towards extinguishing the fire. The +flames were spreading madly through the interior +of the cottage; but they had not as yet burst +through the walls or the roof. +</p> +<p> +The cottage had not been torn from its foundation, +although it had been sadly shaken. If it fell +it might not endanger the hotel, for it was plain +that what little cant had been given to the burning +house was away from the larger building, not toward +it. +</p> +<p> +Ruth and Helen had wet their feet already; +but they did not care to slop through the puddle +on the porch again, so made their way to the ballroom +through the main part of the house. There +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +was less noise among the frightened women and +girls now than before; but they were huddled into +groups, some crying with fear of they did not +know what! +</p> +<p> +“Oh! is the house tumbling down?” asked one +frightened woman of Ruth. “Must we drown?” +</p> +<p> +“Not unless we want to, I am sure, madam,” +said the girl of the Red Mill, cheerfully. +</p> +<p> +“But isn’t the house afire?” cried another. +</p> +<p> +“It isn’t this house, but another, that is burning,” +the Northern girl said, with continued +placidity. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth! there’s Nettie!” exclaimed Helen, +and drew her away. +</p> +<p> +In a corner was Nettie Parsons, crouched upon +a stool, and the girls expected to find her in tears. +But the little serving maid, Norma, had run to her +and was now kneeling on the floor with her face +hidden in Nettie’s lap. +</p> +<p> +“The po’ foolish creature,” sighed Nettie, when +the chums reached her, a soothing hand upon the +shaking black girl’s head. “She is just about out +of her head, she’s so scared. I tell her that the +Good Lo’d won’t let harm come to us; but she just +can’t help bein’ scared.” +</p> +<p> +Nettie’s drawl made Helen laugh. But Ruth +was proud of her. The Southern girl had forgotten +to be afraid herself while she comforted her +little servant. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +</p> +<p> +There was nothing one could do but speak a +comforting word now and then. Ruth was glad +that Helen took the matter so cheerfully. For, +really, as the girl of the Red Mill saw it, there +was not yet any reason for being particularly +worried. +</p> +<p> +“In time of peace prepare for war, however,” +she said to the other girls. “We <em>may</em> have to +leave the hotel in a hurry. Let us go upstairs +to the rooms we were to occupy, and pack our bags +again, and bring them down here with us. Then +if they say we must leave, we shall be ready.” +</p> +<p> +“But how can we leave?” demanded Helen. +“By boat?” +</p> +<p> +“Maybe. Goodness! if we only had a boat we +could get back across the river and walk to the +Big House.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! I wish we were there now,” murmured +Nettie. +</p> +<p> +“I wish you had your wish!” exclaimed Helen. +“But we’ll do as Ruth says. Maybe we’ll get a +chance to leave the place.” +</p> +<p> +For Helen had been quite as much disturbed by +the appearance of Miss Miggs as Ruth had been. +She, too, saw that the woman’s accusation had +made an impression upon the mind of her cousin, +Mrs. Holloway. +</p> +<p> +“I hope we get out before there is trouble over +that horrid woman’s ticket. Who would have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +expected to meet her here?” said Helen to her +chum. +</p> +<p> +“No more than we expected to meet Curly at +Merredith,” Ruth returned. +</p> +<p> +They went upstairs, Norma, the little maid, +keeping close to them. Helen declared the negress +was so scared that she was gray in the face. +</p> +<p> +They heard a group of men talking on the +stairs. They were discussing the pros and cons +of the situation. Nobody seemed to have any idea +as to what should be done. A more helpless lot +of people Ruth Fielding thought she had never +seen before. +</p> +<p> +But after all, the girls from the North did not +understand the situation exactly. There was nothing +one could do to stop the rising flood. There +were no means of transporting the people from the +island to the higher land across the narrow creek. +And all around the hotel, save at the back, the +water was shoulder deep. +</p> +<p> +The rough current and the floating debris made +venturing into the water a dangerous thing, as +well. The fire next door could not be put out; so +there seemed nothing to do but to wait for what +might happen. +</p> +<p> +This policy of waiting for what might turn up +did not suit Ruth Fielding, of course. But there +was nothing she could do just then to change matters +for the better. The suggestion she had made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span> +about packing the bags was more to give her +friends something to do, and so take their minds +off the peril they were in, than aught else. +</p> +<p> +There were other people on the second floor, +and as the girls went into their rooms they heard +somebody talking loudly at the other end of the +hall. At the moment they paid no attention to +this excited female voice. +</p> +<p> +Ruth set the example of immediately returning +her few possessions to her bag and preparing to +leave the room at once. Her chum was ready +almost as soon; but they had to help Nettie and +the maid. The former did not know what to do, +and the frightened Norma was perfectly useless. +</p> +<p> +“I declare! I won’t take this useless child with +me anywhere again,” said Nettie. “Goodness +me!” she continued, pettishly, to the shaking maid, +“have you stolen the silver spoons that your conscience +troubles you so?” +</p> +<p> +But nothing could make Norma look upon the +situation less seriously. When the girls came out +of the door into the hall, bags in hand, Ruth was +first. Immediately the high, querulous voice broke +upon their ears again, and now the girls from the +North recognized it. +</p> +<p> +“There! they’ve been in one of your rooms!” +cried the sharp voice of Miss Miggs. “You’d better +go and search ’em and see what they’ve stolen +now.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +</p> +<p> +“Hush, Martha!” exclaimed Mrs. Holloway. +</p> +<p> +Ruth turned with flaming cheeks and angry eyes. +Her temper at last had got the better of her discretion. +</p> +<p> +“I believe you are the meanest woman whom I +ever saw!” she exclaimed, much to Helen’s delight. +“Don’t you <em>dare</em> say Helen and I touched your +railroad ticket. I—I wish there were some means +of punishing you for accusing us the way you do. +I don’t blame your scholars for treating you +meanly—if they did. I don’t see how you could +expect them to do otherwise. Nobody could love +such a person as you are, I do believe.” +</p> +<p> +“Three rousing cheers!” gasped Helen under +her breath, while Nettie Parsons looked on in +open-mouthed amazement. +</p> +<p> +“There! you hear how the minx dares talk to +me,” cried Miss Miggs, appealing to the ladies +about her. +</p> +<p> +Besides Mrs. Holloway, there were three or +four others. Miss Miggs was dressed now and +looked more presentable than she had when endeavoring +to escape from the hotel in her raincoat +and slippers. +</p> +<p> +“I—I don’t understand it at all,” confessed the +hotel proprietor’s wife. “Surely, my cousin would +not accuse these girls without some reason. She +is from the North, too, and must understand them +better than <em>we</em> do.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +</p> +<p> +No comment could have been more disastrous to +the peace of mind of Ruth and Helen. The latter +uttered a cry of anger and Ruth could scarcely +keep back the tears. +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps we had better look out for our possessions,” +said one of the other ladies, doubtfully. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. They <em>did</em> just come out of one of these +rooms,” said another. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! these are the rooms they were to occupy,” +cried Mrs. Holloway, all in a flutter. “I—I do +not think they would do anything——” +</p> +<p> +“Say!” gasped Nettie, at last finding voice. “I +want to know what yo’-all mean? Yo’ can’t be +speaking of my friends?” +</p> +<p> +“Who is <em>this</em> girl, I’d like to know!” exclaimed +Miss Miggs. “One just like them, no doubt.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Martha! Mrs. Parsons’ niece,” gasped +Mrs. Holloway. “Mrs. Parsons will never forgive +me.” +</p> +<p> +“Gracious heavens!” gasped one of the other +women. “You don’t mean to say that these are +the girls from Merredith?” +</p> +<p> +“Yes,” said Mrs. Holloway. “Of course, nobody +believes that Miss Parsons would do any +such thing; but these other girls are probably +merely school acquaintances——” +</p> +<p> +“I should like to know,” said Nettie, with sudden +firmness, “just what you mean—all of you? +What have Ruth and Helen done?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span> +</p> +<p> +“They stole my railroad ticket on the boat coming +down from New York,” declared Miss Martha +Miggs. +</p> +<p> +“That is not so!” said Nettie, quickly. “Under +no circumstances would I believe it. It is impossible.” +</p> +<p> +“Do you say that my cousin does not tell the +truth?” asked Mrs. Holloway, stiffly, while Miss +Miggs herself could only stammer angry words. +</p> +<p> +“Absolutely,” declared Nettie, her naturally +pale cheeks glowing. “I am amazed at you, Mrs. +Holloway. I know Aunt Rachel will be offended.” +</p> +<p> +“But my own cousin tells me so, and——” +</p> +<p> +“I do not care who tells you such a ridiculous +story,” Nettie interrupted, and Ruth and Helen +were surprised to see how dignified and assertive +their usually timid friend could be when she was +really aroused. +</p> +<p> +“Ruth Fielding and Helen Cameron are above +such things. They are, besides, guests at Merredith, +and we were put in your care, Mrs. Holloway, +and when you insult them you insult my aunt. +Oh! if Aunt Rachel were only here, she could talk +to you,” concluded Nettie, shaking all over she +was so angry. “<em>And she would, too!</em>” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span><a name='chXX' id='chXX'></a>CHAPTER XX—CURLY PLAYS AN HEROIC PART</h2> +<p> +Mrs. Rachel Parsons’ name was one “to conjure +with,” as the saying goes. Ruth and Helen +had marked that fact before. Not alone in the +vicinity of Merredith plantation, but in the cities +and towns through which the visitors had come in +reaching the cotton farm, they had observed how +impressive her name seemed. +</p> +<p> +Several of the ladies who had been listening +avidly to Miss Miggs’ declaration that she had +been robbed, now hastened to disclaim any intention +of offending Mrs. Parsons’ niece and her +friends. +</p> +<p> +But the angry Nettie was not so easily pacified. +She was actually in tears, it was true, but, as Helen +said, “as brave as a little lioness!” In the cause +of her school friends she could well hold her own +with these scandal-mongers. +</p> +<p> +“I am surprised that anybody knowing my aunt +should believe for a moment such a ridiculous +tale as this woman utters,” Nettie said, flashing +an indignant glance about the group. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +</p> +<p> +“It is self-evident that if Aunt Rachel invites +anybody to her home, that the person’s character +is above reproach. That is all <em>I</em> can say. But +I know very well that she will say something far +more serious when she hears of this. +</p> +<p> +“Come, Ruthie and Helen. Let us go downstairs. +I am sorry I cannot take you immediately +home. But be sure that, once we are away from +Holloway’s, we shall never come here again.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Miss Nettie!” gasped the hotel keeper’s +wife. “I did not mean——” +</p> +<p> +“You will have to discuss that point with Aunt +Rachel,” said Nettie, firmly, yet still wiping her +eyes. “I only know that I will take Ruthie and +Helen nowhere again to be insulted. As for that +woman,” she flashed, as a Parthian shot at Miss +Miggs, “I think she must be crazy!” +</p> +<p> +The girls descended the stairs. At the foot +Nettie put her arms about Ruth’s neck and then +about Helen’s, and kissed them both. She was +not naturally given to such displays of affection; +but she was greatly moved. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, my dears!” she cried. “I would not have +had this happen for anything! It is terrible that +you should be so insulted—and among our own +people. Aunt Rachel will be perfectly wild!” +</p> +<p> +“Don’t tell her, then,” urged Ruth, quickly. +“That woman will not be allowed to say anything +more, it is likely; so let it blow over.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span> +</p> +<p> +“It cannot blow over. Not only did she insult +you, and her cousin allowed her to do so, but their +attitude insulted Aunt Rachel. Why! there is not +a person in this hotel the equal of Aunt Rachel. +The Merrediths are the best known family in the +whole county. How Mrs. Holloway <em>dared</em>——” +</p> +<p> +“There, there!” said Ruth, soothingly. “Let it +go. Neither Helen nor I are killed.” +</p> +<p> +“But your reputations might well be,” Nettie +said quickly. +</p> +<p> +“Nobody knows us much here——” +</p> +<p> +“But they know Aunt Rachel. And I assure +you they will hear about this matter in a way they +won’t like. The Holloways especially. She’d better +send that crazy woman packing back to the +North.” +</p> +<p> +At that moment a shout arose from the front +veranda. The girls, followed by Norma screaming +in renewed fright, ran to the door. The water +was still over the flooring of the veranda, but it +had not advanced into the house. +</p> +<p> +The group of excited men on the porch were +pointing off into the river. Out there it was very +dark; but there was a light moving on the face of +the troubled waters. +</p> +<p> +“A boat is coming!” explained somebody to the +girls. “That’s a lantern in it. A boat from across +the river.” +</p> +<p> +“A steamboat?” cried Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, no; a steamboat would not venture to-night—if +at all. And there is none near by. It’s +a bateau of some kind.” +</p> +<p> +“Bet it’s the old bateau from the cotton warehouse +across there,” said another of the men. +“Jimson is trying to reach us.” +</p> +<p> +“And what can he do when he gets here?” asked +a third. “That burning house is bound to fall +this way. Then we’ll have to fight fire for sure!” +</p> +<p> +“Well, Holloway has a bucket brigade all +ready,” said the first speaker. “With all this +water around, it’s too bad if we can’t put a fire +out.” +</p> +<p> +The fire was illuminating all the vicinity now, +for the flames had burst through the roof. The +whole of one end of the cottage was in a blaze, +and the wall of the hotel nearest to it was blistering +in the heat. +</p> +<p> +The hotel proprietor stood there with his helpers +watching the blaze. But the girls watched the +approaching boat, its situation revealed by the +bobbing lantern. +</p> +<p> +“If that is Mr. Jimson,” said Helen, “I hope he +can take us back across the river.” +</p> +<p> +“And he shall if it’s safe,” Nettie said, with +confidence. “But my! the water’s rough.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Miss Nettie! Miss Nettie!” groaned +Norma. “Yo’ ain’ gwine t’ vencha on dat awful +ribber, is yo’?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why not, you ridiculous creature?” demanded +her mistress. “If you are afraid to stay here, and +afraid to go in the boat, what <em>will</em> you do?” +</p> +<p> +“Wait till it dries up!” wailed the darkey maid. +“Den we kin walk home, dry-shod—ya-as’m!” +</p> +<p> +“Wait for the river to dry up, and all?” chuckled +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“That’s what she wants,” said Nettie. “I never +saw such a foolish girl.” +</p> +<p> +The bobbing lantern came nearer. Just as it +reached the edge of the submerged island, there +arose a shout from the men aboard of her. Then +sounded a mighty crash. +</p> +<p> +“Hol’ on, boys! hol’ on!” arose the voice of +Mr. Jimson. “Don’t lose yo’ grip! <em>Pull!</em>” +</p> +<p> +But the negroes could not pull the water-logged +boat. She had struck a snag which ripped a hole +in her bottom, and had been rammed by a log at +the same time. The bateau was a wreck in a few +seconds. +</p> +<p> +The six members of the crew, including the boss +and Curly Smith, leaped overboard as the bateau +sank. They had brought the boat so far, after a +terrific fight with the current, only to sink her not +twenty yards from the front steps of the hotel! +</p> +<p> +“Throw us a line—or a life-buoy!” yelled Jimson. +“This yere river is tearin’ at us like a pack o’ +wolves. Ain’t yo’ folks up there got no heart?” +</p> +<p> +One of the negroes uttered a wild yell and went +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +whirling away down stream, clinging to a timber +that floated by. Two others managed to climb into +the low branches of a tree. +</p> +<p> +But Jimson, the fourth negro, and Curly Smith +struck out for the hotel. After all, Curly was the +best swimmer. Jimson would have been carried +past the end of the hotel and down the current, +had not the Northern boy caught him by the collar +of his shirt and dragged him to the steps. +</p> +<p> +There he left the panting boss and plunged in +again to bring the negro to the surface. This fellow +could not swim much, and was badly frightened. +The instant he felt Curly grab him, he +turned to wind his arms about the boy. +</p> +<p> +The lights burning on the hotel porch showed +all this to the girls. Ruth and Helen, already wet +half-way to their knees, had ventured out on the +porch again in their excitement. Ruth screamed +when she saw the danger Curly was in. +</p> +<p> +The boy had helped save Mr. Jimson; but the +negro and he were being swept right past the +hotel porch. They must both sink and be drowned +if somebody did not help them—and no man was +at hand. +</p> +<p> +“Take my hand, Helen!” commanded Ruth. +“Maybe I can reach them. Scream for help—do!” +and she leaned out from the end of the veranda, +while her chum clung tightly to her left +wrist. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span> +</p> +<p> +The boy and the negro came near. The water +eddied about the porch-end and held them in its +grasp for a moment. +</p> +<p> +It was then that Ruth stooped lower and secured +a grip upon the black man’s sleeve. She held on +grimly while her chum shrieked for help. Jimson +came staggering along to their aid. +</p> +<p> +“Hold on t’ him, Miss Ruth!” he cried. “We’ll +git him!” +</p> +<p> +But if it had depended upon the spent warehouse +boss to rescue the boy and his burden, they would +never have been saved. Two of the men at the +other end of the porch finally heard Helen and +Nettie and came to help. +</p> +<p> +“Haul that negro in,” said one, laughing. “Is +he worth saving, Jimson?” +</p> +<p> +“I ‘spect so,” gasped the boss of the cotton warehouse. +“But I know well that that white boy is. +My old woman sho’ wouldn’t ha’ seen <em>me</em> ag’in if +it hadn’t been fo’ Curly. I was jes’ about all in.” +</p> +<p> +So was Curly, as the girls could see. When the +boy was dragged out upon the porch floor, and lay +on his back in the shallow water, he could neither +move nor speak. The men tried to raise him to +his feet, but his left leg doubled under him. +</p> +<p> +It was Ruth who discovered what was the matter. +“Bring him inside. Lay him on a couch. +Don’t you see that the poor boy has broken his +leg?” she demanded. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span><a name='chXXI' id='chXXI'></a>CHAPTER XXI—THE NEXT MORNING</h2> +<p> +The fire was now at its height, and many of the +men were fighting the flames as they leaped across +from the burning cottage. Therefore, not many +had been called to the help of the refugees from +the wrecked bateau. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll be whip-sawed!” complained Jimson. +“Foolin’ with their blamed old bonfire, they might +ha’ let me an’ my negroes drown. This yere little +Yankee boy is wuth the whole bilin’ of ’em.” +</p> +<p> +They carried Curly, who was quite unconscious +now, into the house. On a couch in the office Ruth +fixed a pillow, and straightened out his injured +leg. +</p> +<p> +“Isn’t there a doctor? Somebody who knows +something about setting the leg?” she demanded. +“If it can only be set now, while he is unconscious, +he will be saved just so much extra pain.” +</p> +<p> +“Let me find somebody!” cried Nettie, who +knew almost everybody in the hotel party. +</p> +<p> +She ran out upon the veranda, forgetting her +slippers and silk hose for the moment, and soon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +came back with one of the men who had been helping +to throw water against the side of the building. +</p> +<p> +“This is Dr. Coombs. I know he can help you, +Ruth—and he will.” +</p> +<p> +“Boy with broken leg, heh?” said the gentleman, +briefly. “Is that all the damage?” and he began +to examine the unconscious Curly. “Now, you’re +a cool-headed young lady,” he said to Ruth; “you +and Jimson can give me a hand. Send the others +out of the room. We’re going to be mighty busy +here for a few minutes.” +</p> +<p> +He saw that Ruth was calm and quick. He had +her get water and bandages. Mr. Jimson whittled +out splints as directed. The doctor was really a +veterinary surgeon, but when the setting of the +broken limb was accomplished, Curly might have +thanked Dr. Coombs for a very neat and workmanlike +piece of work. But poor Curly remained +unconscious for some time thereafter. +</p> +<p> +The flames were under control and the danger +of the hotel’s catching fire was past before the boy +opened his eyes. He opened them to see Ruth +sitting at the foot of the couch on which he lay. +</p> +<p> +“Old Scratch!” exclaimed Curly, “don’t tell +Gran, Ruth Fielding. If you do, she’ll give me +whatever for busting my leg. Ooo! don’t it hurt.” +</p> +<p> +He had forgotten for the moment that he had +ever left Lumberton, and Ruth soothed him as best +she could. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +</p> +<p> +The bustle and confusion around the hotel had +somewhat subsided. The regular guests had retired +to their rooms, for it was past midnight now. +The water was creeping higher and higher, and +now began to run in over the floor of the lower +story. +</p> +<p> +By Ruth’s advice, Helen and Nettie had gone up +to their rooms. They had allowed Mrs. Holloway +to put two young ladies in one of the beds there, +for the hotel keeper had to house many more than +the usual number of people. +</p> +<p> +Ruth alone stayed with Mr. Jimson to watch +Curly. And when the water began to rise she insisted +that the couch be lifted upon the shoulders +of four powerful negroes, and carried upstairs. +</p> +<p> +One of the men who transferred the boy to the +wide hall above, was the darkey whom Curly had +saved from drowning. That negro was so grateful +that he camped upon the stairs for the rest of +the night, to be within call of Ruth or Mr. Jimson +if anything was needed that he could do for “dat +li’le w’ite boy.” +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Holloway found a screen to put at the +foot of the couch, and thus made a shelter for the +boy and his nurse. But Ruth knew that many of +the ladies before they went to bed came and peeped +at her, and whispered about her together in the +open hall. +</p> +<p> +She wondered what they really thought of her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +and Helen. The positive Miss Miggs had undoubtedly +made an impression on their minds when +she accused Ruth and Helen of stealing. +</p> +<p> +“What they really think of us, we can’t tell,” +Ruth told herself. “It is awful to be so far from +home and friends, and have no way of proving +that one is of good character. Here is poor Curly. +What is going to become of him? His grandmother +hasn’t answered my letters, and perhaps +she won’t have anything to do with him after all. +What will become of him while he lies helpless? +He can’t have earned much money in these few +days over at the warehouse, for they don’t pay +much.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding’s sympathetic nature often caused +her to bear burdens that were imaginary—to a +degree. But it was not her own trouble that worried +her now. It was that of the boy with the +broken leg. +</p> +<p> +He was a stranger in a strange land, and with +practically nobody to care how he got along. He +had played a heroic part in the rescue of Mr. Jimson +and the negro workman; but Ruth doubted +greatly if either of the rescued men could do much +for poor Curly. +</p> +<p> +Jimson was a poor man with a large family; the +negro was, of course, less able to do anything for +the white boy than the boss of the warehouse. +</p> +<p> +These thoughts troubled Ruth’s mind, sleeping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span> +and waking, all night. She refused to leave Curly; +but she dozed a good deal of the time in the comfortable +chair that the negro had brought her from +the parlor downstairs. +</p> +<p> +Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Holloway came to speak +to her, or to see how Curly was, all night long. +Yet Ruth knew that both were working hard, with +the negroes in their employ, to make all their +guests comfortable. +</p> +<p> +Back of the hotel on slightly higher ground were +the kitchens and quarters. To these rooms the +stores were removed and breakfast was begun for +all before six o’clock. +</p> +<p> +By that time the clouds had broken and the sun +shone. But the river roared past the hotel at express +speed. Jimson said he had never seen it +so high, or so furious. +</p> +<p> +“There’s a big reservoir above yere, up the +creek; I reckon it’s done busted its banks, or has +overflowed, or something,” the boss of the warehouse +said. “Never was so much water in this +yere river at one time since Adam was a boy, I tell +yo’.” +</p> +<p> +The girls came for Ruth before breakfast, and +made her lie down for a nap. The two strange +girls who had been put in their rooms were still in +bed, and Ruth was not disturbed until the negroes +began coming upstairs with trays of breakfast for +the different rooms. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span> +</p> +<p> +There was great hilarity then. There was no +use in trying to serve the guests downstairs, for +the dining room had a foot of water washing +through one end of it, and the rear was several +inches deep in a muddy overflow. +</p> +<p> +The two girls who had slept with them awoke +when Ruth did, and all five of the girls, with +Norma to wait upon them, made a merry breakfast. +Ruth ran back then to see how Curly was +being served. She found the boy alone, and nobody +had thought to bring him any food save the +grateful negro laborer. +</p> +<p> +“That coon’s all right,” said Curly, with satisfaction. +“He got me half a fried chicken and +some corn pone and sweet potatoes, and I’m feeling +fine. All but my leg. Old Scratch! but that +hurts like a good feller, Ruth Fielding.” +</p> +<p> +“Dear me!” said Ruth. “Don’t speak of the +poor man as a ’coon.’ That’s an animal with four +legs—and they eat them down here.” +</p> +<p> +“And he wouldn’t be good eating, I know,” +chuckled Curly. “But he’s a good feller. Say, +Ruthie! how did you and Helen Cameron come +’way down here?” +</p> +<p> +“How did <em>you</em> come here?” returned Ruth, smiling +at him. +</p> +<p> +“Why—on the boat and on a train—several +trains, until I got to Pee Dee. And then a flatboat. +Old Scratch! but I’ve had an awful time, Ruth.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span> +</p> +<p> +“You ran away, of course,” said the girl, just +as though she knew nothing about the trouble +Curly had had in Lumberton. +</p> +<p> +“Yep. I did. So would you.” +</p> +<p> +“Why would I?” +</p> +<p> +“’Cause of what they said about me. Why, +Ruth Fielding!” and he started to sit up in bed, +but lay down quickly with a groan. “Oh! how that +leg aches.” +</p> +<p> +“Keep still then, Curly,” she said. “And tell +me the truth. <em>Why</em> did you run away?” +</p> +<p> +“Because they said I helped rob the railroad +station.” +</p> +<p> +“But if you didn’t do it, couldn’t you risk being +exonerated in court?” +</p> +<p> +“Say! they never called you, ‘that Smith boy’; +did they?” +</p> +<p> +“Of course not,” admitted Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Then you don’t know what you’re talking +about. I had no more chance of being exonerated +in any court around Lumberton than I had of flying +to the moon! Everybody was down on me—including +Gran.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, hadn’t they some reason?” asked Ruth, +gravely. +</p> +<p> +“Mebbe they had. Mebbe they had,” cried +Henry Smith. “But they ought to’ve known I +wouldn’t <em>steal</em>.” +</p> +<p> +“You didn’t help those tramps, then?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +</p> +<p> +“There you go!” sniffed the boy. “You’re just +as bad as the rest of ’em.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m asking you for information,” said Ruth, +coolly. “I want to hear you say whether you did +or not. I read about it in the paper.” +</p> +<p> +“Old Scratch! did they have it in the paper?” +queried Curly, with wonder. +</p> +<p> +“Yes. And your grandmother is dreadfully +disgraced——” +</p> +<p> +“No she isn’t,” snapped Curly. “She only +thinks she is. I never done it.” +</p> +<p> +“Well,” said Ruth, with a sigh, “I’m glad to +hear you say that, although it’s very bad grammar.” +</p> +<p> +“Hang grammar!” cried the excited Curly. “I +never stole a cent’s worth in my life. And they +all know it. But if they’d got me up before Judge +Necker I’d got a hundred years in jail, I guess. +He hates me.” +</p> +<p> +“Why?” +</p> +<p> +Curly looked away. “Well, I played a trick on +him. More’n one, I guess. He gets so mad, it’s +fun.” +</p> +<p> +“Your idea of fun has brought you to a pretty +hard bed, I guess, Curly,” was Ruth Fielding’s +comment. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span><a name='chXXII' id='chXXII'></a>CHAPTER XXII—SOMETHING FOR CURLY</h2> +<p> +Helen Cameron was very proud of Curly. +She was, in the first place, deeply grateful for what +the boy had done for her the time the stag frightened +her so badly in the City Park at Norfolk. +Then, it seemed to her, that he had shown a deal +of pluck in getting so far from home as this Southern +land, and keeping clear of the police, as well. +</p> +<p> +“You must admit, Ruth, that he is awfully +smart,” she repeated again and again to her chum. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t see it—much,” returned Ruth Fielding. +“I don’t see how he got away down here on +the little money he says he had at the start. He +bought the frock and hat and shoes he wore with +his own money, and paid his fare on the boat. But +that took all he had, and he had to get work in +Norfolk. He worked a week for a contractor +there. That’s when he saved you from the <em>deer</em>, +my <em>dear</em>!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, indeed? And didn’t he earn enough to +pay his way down here? He says he rode in the +cars.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span> +</p> +<p> +“I’ll ask him about that,” said Ruth, musingly. +</p> +<p> +But she forgot to do so just then. In fact there +was another problem in both the girls’ minds: +What would become of Curly when the water subsided +and he would have to be taken away from +the hotel? +</p> +<p> +“Nettie says there is a hospital in Georgetown. +But it is a private institution. Curly will be laid +up a long while with that leg. It is a compound +fracture and it will have to be kept in splints for +weeks. The doctor says it ought to be in a cast. +I wish he were in the hospital.” +</p> +<p> +“I suppose he would be better off,” said Helen, +in agreement. “But isn’t it awful that his grandmother +won’t take him back?” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t understand it at all,” sighed Ruth. “I +didn’t think she was really so hard-hearted.” +</p> +<p> +The marooned guests of the hotel and the servants +were quite comfortable in their quarters; +but the women and girls did not care to descend +to the lower floor of the big house. The men +waded around the porches; and two men who +owned cottages on the island which had not been +swept away by the flood, used a storm-door for a +raft and paddled themselves over to inspect their +property. Their families were much better off +with the Holloways at the hotel, however. +</p> +<p> +There had been landings and boats along the +shore of the island; but not a craft was now left. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +The river had risen so swiftly the evening before, +while the dancing was in full blast, that there had +been no opportunity to save any such property. +</p> +<p> +Every small structure on the island had been +swept down the current; and only half a dozen of +the cottages were left standing. These structures, +too, might go at any time, it was prophesied. +</p> +<p> +Jimson and his negroes could not get back +across the river, and not a craft of any description +came in sight. +</p> +<p> +The two negroes who had climbed into the tree +at the edge of the island, were rescued by the aid +of the storm-door raft; and as Jimson said, in his +rough way, they only added to the number of +mouths to feed, for they were of no aid in any +way. +</p> +<p> +The hotel keeper chanced to have a good supply +of flour, meal, sugar and the other staples on +hand; and they had been removed to dry storage +before the flood reached its height. There was +likewise a well supplied meat-house behind the +hotel. +</p> +<p> +Naturally the ladies and girls, marooned on the +upper floor of the hotel, were bound to become +more closely associated as the hours of waiting +passed. The two girls who roomed with Nettie +and her party, learned that Ruth Fielding and +Helen Cameron were very nice girls indeed. They +did not have to take Nettie’s word for it. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +</p> +<p> +Perhaps they influenced public opinion in favor +of the Northern girls as much as anything did. +Miss Miggs was Northern herself, and not much +liked. Her spitefulness did not compare well with +Ruth’s practical kindness to the boy with the +broken leg. +</p> +<p> +Before night public opinion had really turned +in favor of the visitors from the North. But Ruth +and Helen kept very much to themselves, and Nettie +was so angry with Mrs. Holloway that she +would scarcely speak to that repentant woman. +</p> +<p> +“I don’t want anything to do with her,” she +said to Ruth. “If Aunt Rachel had been here last +night I don’t know what she would have done when +that woman seemed to side with that crazy school +teacher.” +</p> +<p> +“You could scarcely blame her. Miss Miggs is +Mrs. Holloway’s cousin.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course I can blame her,” cried Nettie. +“And I do.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, I think it was pretty mean, myself,” said +Helen. “But I didn’t suppose you would hold +rancor so long, Nettie Sobersides! Come on! +cheer up; the worst is yet to come.” +</p> +<p> +“The worst will certainly come to these people +at this hotel,” threatened the Southern girl. “Aunt +Rachel will have the last word. You are her guests +and a Merredith or a Parsons never forgives an +insult to a guest.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +</p> +<p> +“Goodness!” cried Ruth, trying to laugh away +Nettie’s resentment. “It is fortunate you are not +a man, Nettie. You would, I suppose, challenge +somebody to a duel over this.” +</p> +<p> +“There have been duels for less in this county, +I can assure you,” said Nettie, without smiling. +</p> +<p> +“How bloodthirsty!” laughed Ruth. “But let’s +think about something pleasanter. Nettie is becoming +savage.” +</p> +<p> +“I know what will cure her,” cried Helen and +bounced out of the room. She came back in a few +minutes with a battered violin that she had borrowed +from one of the negroes who had been a +member of the orchestra the night before. It was +a mellow instrument and Helen quickly had it in +tune. +</p> +<p> +“Music has been known to soothe the savage +breast,” declared Helen, tucking the violin, +swathed in a silk handkerchief, under her dimpled +chin. +</p> +<p> +“I’ll forgive anybody—even my worst enemy—if +Ruth will sing, too,” begged Nettie. +</p> +<p> +So after a few introductory strains Helen began +an old ballad that she and Ruth had often +practised together. Ruth, sitting with her hands +folded in her lap and looking thoughtfully out on +the drenched landscape, began to sing. +</p> +<p> +Nettie set the door ajar. The two girls came +in from the other room. Norma, wide-eyed, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +crouched on the floor to listen. And before long +a crowd of faces appeared at the open door. +</p> +<p> +Quite unconscious of the interest they were +creating, the two members of the Briarwood Glee +Club played and sang for several minutes. It +was Helen who looked toward the door first and +saw their audience. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Ruth!” she exclaimed, and stopped playing. +Ruth turned, the song dying on her lips. +The crowd of guests began to applaud and in the +distance could be heard Curly Smith clapping his +hands together and shouting: +</p> +<p> +“Bully for Ruth! Bully for Helen! That’s +fine.” +</p> +<p> +“Shut the door, Nettie!” cried Helen, insistently. +“I—I really have an idea.” +</p> +<p> +“The concert is over, ladies,” declared the +Southern girl, laughing, and shutting the door. +</p> +<p> +“What’s the idea, dear?” asked Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“About raising money for poor Curly.” +</p> +<p> +“We can give him some ourselves,” Nettie said, +for of course she had been taken into the full confidence +of the chums about the runaway. +</p> +<p> +“<em>I</em> can’t,” confessed Helen. “I have scarcely +any left. If my fare home were not paid I’d have +to borrow.” +</p> +<p> +“I can give some; but not enough,” said Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“That’s where my idea comes in,” Helen said. +“That’s why I said to shut the door.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span> +</p> +<p> +Nettie ejaculated: “Goodness! what does the +child mean?” +</p> +<p> +But Ruth guessed, and her face broke into a +smile. “I’m with you, dear!” she cried. “Of +course we will—if we’re let.” +</p> +<p> +“Will <em>what</em>?” gasped Nettie. “You girls are +thought readers. What one thinks of the other +knows right away.” +</p> +<p> +“A concert,” said Ruth and Helen together. +</p> +<p> +“Oh! When?” +</p> +<p> +“Right here—and now!” said Helen, promptly. +“If the Holloways will let us.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, girls! what a very splendid idea,” declared +Nettie. Then the next moment she added: “But +the piano is downstairs, and they could never get +it up here. And there’s no room big enough upstairs, +anyhow.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth began to laugh. “I tell you. It shall be +a regular chamber concert. We’ll have it in the +bed chambers, for a fact!” +</p> +<p> +“What do you mean?” asked the puzzled Nettie. +</p> +<p> +“Why, the audience can sit in their rooms or +on the stairs or in the long hall up here. We will +give the concert downstairs. I don’t know but +we’ll have to give it barefooted, girls!” +</p> +<p> +The laughter that followed was interrupted by +a shout from below. They heard somebody say +that there was a boat coming. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span> +</p> +<p> +“Well, maybe there will be something for Curly +after all,” Helen cried, as she followed Ruth out +of the room. +</p> +<p> +Through the wide doorway they could see the +boat approaching. And they could hear it, too, +for it was a small launch chugging swiftly up to +the submerged island. +</p> +<p> +“Oh, goody!” cried Nettie. “Maybe we can +get across the river and back to Merredith.” +</p> +<p> +It looked as though the launch had just come +from the other side of the swollen stream. Jimson +and several of the negroes were on the porch +to meet the launch as it touched. +</p> +<p> +There were but two men in it, one at the wheel +and the other in the bow. The latter, a gray-haired +man with a broad-brimmed hat, blue +clothes, and a silver star on his breast, stepped out +upon the porch in his high boots. +</p> +<p> +“Hullo, Jimson,” he said, greeting the warehouse +boss. “Just a little wet here, ain’t yo’?” +</p> +<p> +“A little, Sheriff,” said Jimson. +</p> +<p> +“I’m after a party they told me at your house +was probably over here. A boy from the No’th. +Name’s Henry Smith. Is he yere? I was told +to get him and notify folks up No’th that the little +scamp’s cotched. He’s been stealin’ up there, +and they want him.” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span><a name='chXXIII' id='chXXIII'></a>CHAPTER XXIII—“HERE’S A STATE OF THINGS!”</h2> +<p> +The words of the deputy sheriff came clearly to +the ears of Ruth Fielding and her two girl friends +as they stood on the lower step of the broad flight +leading to the second floor of the hotel. +</p> +<p> +Jimson, the warehouse boss, who had already +shown his interest in Curly, looked quickly around +and spied the girls. He made a crooked face and +began at once to fence with the deputy. +</p> +<p> +“What’s that?” he said. “Said I got an escaped +prisoner? <em>Who</em> said that, Mr. Ricketts?” +</p> +<p> +“Yo’ wife, I reckon ’twas, tol’ me the boy was +yere.” +</p> +<p> +“She’s crazy!” declared Jimson with apparent +anger. “I dunno what’s got into that woman. I +ain’t seen no convict——” +</p> +<p> +“Who’s talkin’ about a convict, Jimson?” demanded +Mr. Ricketts. “D’ yo’ think I’m after +some desperado from the swamps? I reckon not.” +</p> +<p> +“Well, who <em>are</em> you after?” demanded the boss, +in great apparent vexation. “I ain’t got him, whoever +he is!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +</p> +<p> +“Not a boy named Henry Smith?” +</p> +<p> +“What’s he done?” +</p> +<p> +“I see you’re some int’rested,” said Ricketts, +drily. “Come on now, Jimson! I know you. The +boy’s a bad lot.” +</p> +<p> +“Your say-so don’t make him so. And I dunno +as I know the boy you mean.” +</p> +<p> +“Come now, your wife tol’ me all about him. +He’s a curly-headed boy. He come along on a +flatboat. You took him on as a hand in the warehouse.” +</p> +<p> +“Huh? I did, did I?” grunted Jimson, not at +all willing to give in that he knew whom the deputy +sheriff was talking about. +</p> +<p> +“I mean a curly-headed Yankee boy that come +over yere last night in that old boat of yours, Jimson,” +said the deputy sheriff, chuckling. “And +your woman wants to know when you’re going to +bring the boat back?” +</p> +<p> +“Huh?” growled Jimson. +</p> +<p> +“Don’t yo’ call him Curly?” +</p> +<p> +“Oh! you mean <em>him</em>?” said the boss. “Wal—I +reckon he’s yere. Got a broken laig. Doctor +won’t let him be moved. Impossible, Mr. Ricketts. +Impossible!” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon I’ll look to suit myself, Jimson,” said +Ricketts, firmly. “This ain’t no funnin’, you +know.” Then he turned to the man in the boat. +“Tie that rope to one o’ these posts, Tom, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +come ashore. I may need you to hold Jimson,” +and he winked and chuckled at the chagrined warehouse +boss. +</p> +<p> +The big deputy sheriff strode across the porch, +in at the door, scattering the wide-eyed negroes +right and left, and came face to face with three +pretty young girls, dressed in the party frocks +donned for the ball the night before, all the frocks +they had to wear on this occasion. +</p> +<p> +“Bless my soul, ladies!” gasped the confused +Ricketts, sweeping off his hat. “Your servant!” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Ricketts!” exclaimed Nettie Parsons, +her hands clasped, and looking in her most appealing +way up into the big man’s face. Although +Nettie stood a step up from the hall floor, the +deputy sheriff still towered above her head and +shoulders. “Oh, Mr. Ricketts!” +</p> +<p> +“Ya-as, ma’am! that’s my name, ma’am,” said +the embarrassed deputy. +</p> +<p> +“We heard what you just said,” pursued Nettie. +“About Curly Smith, you know.” +</p> +<p> +“I—I——” +</p> +<p> +“And we’re awfully interested in Curly,” put in +Helen, joining in the attempt to cajole a perfectly +helpless officer of the law from the path of duty. +</p> +<p> +“Your servant, ma’am!” gasped the deputy, +very red in the face now, and bowing low before +Helen. +</p> +<p> +“There are three of us, Mr. Ricketts,” suggested Ruth, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +her own eyes dancing with fun, despite +the really serious distress she felt over Curly’s +case. +</p> +<p> +“Bless my soul!” murmured Mr. Ricketts, bowing +in her direction, too. “So there are—so there +are. <em>Your</em> servant, ma’am.” +</p> +<p> +“Then, Mr. Ricketts, if you are the servant of +<em>all</em> of us, I know you will do what we ask,” and +Nettie laughed merrily. +</p> +<p> +Little drops of perspiration were exuding upon +the deputy’s broad, bald brow. He was not used +to the society of ladies—not even extremely young +ladies; and he felt both ridiculous and in a glow +of delight. He chuckled and wabbled his head +above his stiff collar, and looked foolish. But +there was a grim firmness to his smoothly shaven +chin that led Ruth to believe that he would not be +an easy person to swerve from his path. +</p> +<p> +“You know,” repeated Nettie, taking her cue +from Helen, “that we are awfully interested in +that boy that you say you have come after.” +</p> +<p> +“The young scamp’s mighty lucky, then—mighty +lucky!” +</p> +<p> +“But he has a broken leg—and he’s awfully +sick,” said Nettie, her lips drooping at the corners +as though she were about to cry. +</p> +<p> +“Tut, tut, tut! I’m awfully sorry miss. +But——” +</p> +<p> +“And he’s had an awfully bad time,” broke in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span> +Helen. “Curly has. He’s ragged, and he has +been ill-treated. And we saw him jump overboard +and swim from that steamer before it reached Old +Point Comfort, and he was picked up by a fishing +boat. Oh! he is awfully brave.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ricketts stared and swallowed hard. He +could not find voice to reply just then. +</p> +<p> +“And he saved that cat from drowning. Oh! +I had forgotten that,” said Nettie, chiming in. +“He really is very kind-hearted, as well as brave.” +</p> +<p> +“And,” said Ruth, from the stair above, “I am +sure he never helped those men rob the Lumberton +railroad station. Never!” +</p> +<p> +“My soul and body, ladies!” exclaimed the deputy +sheriff. “You are sho’ more knowin’ about this +yere boy from the No’th than I am. I only got +instructions to <em>git</em> him—and git him I must.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, Mr. Ricketts!” gasped Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Please, Mr. Ricketts!” begged Nettie. +</p> +<p> +“Do consider, Mr. Ricketts!” joined in Ruth. +“He’s really not guilty.” +</p> +<p> +“Who says he ain’t?” demanded the deputy +sheriff, shooting in the question suddenly. +</p> +<p> +“He says so,” said Ruth, firmly, “and I never +knew Curly Smith to tell a story.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ricketts was undoubtedly in a very embarrassing +position. He was the soul of gallantry—according +to his standards. To please the ladies +was almost the highest law of his nature. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span> +</p> +<p> +Behind him, Jimson, his companion, Tom, and +the negroes had gathered in a compact crowd to +listen. Mr. Ricketts, hat in hand, and perspiring +now profusely, did not know what to do. He said, +feebly: +</p> +<p> +“My soul and body, ladies! I dunno what t’ +say. I’d please yo’ if I could. But I’m instructed +t’ bring this yere boy in, an’ I got t’ do it. A broken +laig ain’t no killin’ matter. I’ve had one myself—ya-as, +ma’am! We kin take him in this yere little +launch that b’longs t’ Kunnel Peters. He’ll be +’tended to fust-class.” +</p> +<p> +“Not in your old jail at Pegburg!” cried Nettie. +“You know better, Mr. Ricketts,” and she was +quite severe. +</p> +<p> +“I know you, Miss Nettie,” Mr. Ricketts said, +with humility, “You’re Mrs. Parsons’ niece. You +say the wo’d an’ I’ll take the boy right to my own +house.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth had been watching one of the negroes who +had stood on the outskirts of the group. He was +a big, burly, dull-looking fellow—the very man +whom Curly had risked his life to save from the +river the night before. +</p> +<p> +This man stepped softly away from the crowd. +He disappeared toward the front of the porch. +By craning her neck a little Ruth could see around +the corner of the door-jamb and follow the movements +of this negro with her eyes. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +</p> +<p> +The man, Tom, had tied the painter of the +launch to a post there. The negro stood for a +moment near that post; then he disappeared altogether. +</p> +<p> +Ruth’s heart suddenly beat faster. What had +the negro done? She leaned forward farther to +see the launch tugging at its rope. <em>The craft was +already a dozen yards away from the hotel!</em> +</p> +<p> +“I’m awful sorry, ladies,” declared the deputy +sheriff, obstinately shaking his head. “I’ve got t’ +arrest that boy. That’s my sworn and bounden +duty. And I got t’ take him away in this yere +launch of Kunnel Peterses.” +</p> +<p> +He turned to wave a ham-like hand toward the +tethered launch. The gesture was stayed in midair. +Jimson, turning likewise, burst into a high +cackle of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Here’s a state of things!” roared the deputy, +and rushed out upon the porch. The launch was +whirling away down the current, far out of reach. +“Here, Tom! didn’t you hitch that boat?” +</p> +<p> +“I reckon ye won’t git away with that there +little Yankee boy as you expected, Mr. Ricketts,” +cried Jimson. “Er-haw! haw! haw!” +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span><a name='chXXIV' id='chXXIV'></a>CHAPTER XXIV—THE CHAMBER CONCERT</h2> +<p> +“You kin say what you like,” Mr. Jimson said +later, and in a hoarse aside to Ruth Fielding, “the +sheriff’s a good old sport. He took it laffin’—after +the fust s’prise. You make much of him, +Miss Ruth—you and Miss Helen and Miss Nettie—an’ +yo’ll keep him eatin’ out o’ your hand, he’s +that gentled.” +</p> +<p> +Ruth was afraid at first that somebody would +suspect the negro of unleashing the launch. She +did not think Mr. Jimson knew who did it. In the +first heat, Mr. Ricketts accused his man, Tom, of +being careless. +</p> +<p> +But it all simmered down in a few minutes. Mr. +Holloway came out and invited the deputy and his +comrade to come back to the rear apartment for a +bite of lunch. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ricketts seemed satisfied to know that the +boy was upstairs and in good hands. He did not—at +that time—ask to see him; and Ruth wanted, +if she could, to keep news of the deputy’s arrival +from the knowledge of the patient. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me, Ruth!” groaned Helen. “It +never rains but it pours.” +</p> +<p> +“That seems very true of the weather in this +part of the world,” agreed her chum. “I never +saw it rain harder than it has during the past few +days.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness! I don’t mean real rain,” said +Helen. “I mean troubles never come singly.” +</p> +<p> +“What’s troubling you particularly now?” asked +Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“I’ve lost my last handkerchief,” said Helen, +tragically. “Isn’t it just awful to be here another +night without a single change of anything? I feel +just as mussy as I can feel. And this pretty dress +will never be fit to wear again.” +</p> +<p> +“We’re better off than some of the girls,” +laughed Ruth. “One of those that room with +us danced right through her stockings, heel and +toe, the evening of the hop; and now every time +she steps there is a great gap at each heel above +her low pumps. With that costume she wears +she can put on nothing but black stockings, and I +saw her just now trying to ink her heels so that +when anybody follows her upstairs, they will not +be so likely to notice the holes in her stockings.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! if that were all that bothered us!” +groaned Helen. “What are we going to do about +Curly?” +</p> +<p> +“What <em>can</em> we do about him?” asked Ruth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +</p> +<p> +“You don’t want to see him arrested and carried +to jail, do you?” +</p> +<p> +“No, my dear. But how can we help it—when +this deputy sheriff manages to find a craft in which +to take him away from the island?” +</p> +<p> +“I wish Nettie’s Aunt Rachel were here,” cried +the other Northern girl. +</p> +<p> +“Even Mrs. Parsons, I fear, could not stop the +law in its course.” +</p> +<p> +“I don’t know. She is pretty powerful,” returned +her chum, grinning. “See how nice they +have all begun to treat us since Nettie threatened +them with the terrors of her Aunt Rachel’s displeasure.” +</p> +<p> +“Perhaps. But I would rather they were nice +to us for our own sakes,” Ruth said thoughtfully. +“If it were not for Nettie, and Curly and the concert +we want to give for his benefit, I wouldn’t +care whether many of them spoke to us or not. +And every time that Miggs woman is in sight she +makes me feel awfully unhappy,” confessed Ruth. +“I don’t believe I ever before disliked anybody +quite so heartily as I dislike her.” +</p> +<p> +“Dislike! I <em>hate</em> her!” exclaimed Helen. +</p> +<p> +“It’s awful to feel so towards any human creature,” +Ruth went on. “And I fear that we ought +to pity her, not to hate her.” +</p> +<p> +“I should like to know why?” demanded Helen, +in some heat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +</p> +<p> +“Mrs. Holloway told one of the ladies the particulars +of Miss Miggs’ coming down here, and +why she is such a nervous wreck—and the lady +just told me.” +</p> +<p> +“‘Nervous wreck,’” scoffed Helen. “Wrecked +by her ugly temper, you mean.” +</p> +<p> +“She has been the sole support, and nurse as +well, of a bed-ridden aunt for years. During this +last term—she teaches in a big school in Bannister, +Massachusetts—she had a very hard time. She +has always had trouble with her girls; and evidently +doesn’t love them.” +</p> +<p> +“Not so’s you’d notice it,” grumbled Helen. +</p> +<p> +“And they made her a good deal of trouble. +The old aunt became more exacting toward the +last, and finally Miss Miggs was up almost all +night with the invalid and then was harassed in +the schoolroom all day by the thoughtless girls.” +</p> +<p> +“Oh, dear me, Ruthie! now you are trying to +find excuses for the mean old thing.” +</p> +<p> +“I’m telling you—that’s all.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! I don’t know that I want you to tell +me,” sniffed Helen. “I don’t feel as ugly toward +that Miggs woman as I did.” +</p> +<p> +“I feel very angry with her myself,” Ruth said. +“It is hard for me to get over anger, I am afraid.” +</p> +<p> +“But you are slow to wrath. ‘Beware the anger +of a patient man’ says—says—well, <em>somebody</em>. +‘Overhaul your book and, when found, make note +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +of,’” giggled Helen. “Well! how did Martha +get away from the aunt?” +</p> +<p> +“The aunt got away from her,” said Ruth, +gravely. “She died—just before the end of the +term. Altogether poor Miss Miggs was ‘all in,’ +as the saying is.” +</p> +<p> +Helen sniffed again. She would not own up that +she was affected by the story. +</p> +<p> +“Then,” said Ruth, earnestly, “just a few days +before the end of school some of her girls played +a trick on the poor thing and frightened her—oh, +horribly! She fell at her desk unconscious, and +the girls who had played the trick ran out of the +room and left her there—of course, not knowing +that she had fainted. She broke her glasses, and +when she came to she could not find her way about, +and almost went mad. It was a very serious matter, +indeed. They found her wandering about the +room quite out of her mind. Mrs. Holloway had +already invited her down here and sent her a +ticket from Norfolk to Pee Dee, where she was to +take boat again. The doctors said the trip would +be the best thing for her, and they packed her off,” +concluded Ruth. +</p> +<p> +“Well—she’s to be pitied, I suppose,” said +Helen, grudgingly. “But I can’t fall in love with +her.” +</p> +<p> +“Who could? She has had a hard time, just +the same, When she lost her ticket she had barely +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span> +money enough to bring her on to Pee Dee where +Mrs. Holloway met her. The poor thing was +worried to death. You see, all her money had +been spent on the aunt, and her funeral expenses.” +</p> +<p> +“Well! she’s unfortunate. But she had no business +to accuse us of stealing her ticket—if it was +stolen at all.” +</p> +<p> +“Of course somebody picked it up. But the +ticket may have done nobody any good. She says +she left it in the railroad folder on that seat in +the steamer’s saloon—you remember.” +</p> +<p> +“I remember vividly,” agreed Helen, “our first +encounter with Miss Miggs.” Then she began to +laugh. “And wasn’t she funny?” +</p> +<p> +“‘Not so’s you’d notice it!’ to quote your own +classic language,” said Ruth, sharply. “There was +nothing funny about it.” +</p> +<p> +“That is when we first saw Curly on the boat.” +</p> +<p> +“Yes. He was there. But he didn’t hear anything +of the row, I guess. He says he had no idea +we were on that boat—and we saw him three +times.” +</p> +<p> +“And heard him jump overboard,” finished +Helen. “The foolish boy.” +</p> +<p> +She went away to sit by him and tell him stories. +Helen was developing quite a reputation as a +nurse. The boy was in pain and anything was +welcome that kept his mind for a little off the +troublesome leg. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +</p> +<p> +The girls were very busy that evening with another +matter. Permission had been asked and obtained +to give the proposed “chamber concert” +for Curly’s benefit. What the boy had done in +saving two lives was well known now among the +enforced guests at Holloway’s, and the idea of +any entertainment was welcome. +</p> +<p> +There was a mimeograph on which the hotel +menus were printed and Ruth got up a gorgeous +program in two-colored ink of the “chamber concert,” +inviting everybody to come. +</p> +<p> +“And they’ve just got to come, my dears,” said +Nettie, who took upon herself the distribution of +the concert programs and—as Helen called it—the +“boning” for the money. “Ev’ry white person +in this hotel has got to pay a dollar at least, +fo’ the pleasure of hearing Helen play and Ruth +sing. That’s their admission.” +</p> +<p> +“I’d like to see you get a dollar for that purpose +out of Miss Miggs,” giggled Helen. +</p> +<p> +“Never mind, honey, somebody will have to pay +fo’ her,” declared Nettie. “Then we’ll sell the +choice seats and the boxes at auction.” +</p> +<p> +“Goodness, child!” cried Ruth. “What boxes +do you mean; soap boxes?” +</p> +<p> +“The front stairs,” said Nettie, placidly. “The +seats in the upstairs hall here will be reserved, and +must bring a premium, too.” +</p> +<p> +“The ingenuity of the girl!” gasped Ruth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +</p> +<p> +“Why, Ruthie,” said Helen, “it isn’t <em>anything</em> +to get up a concert, or to carry a program all +alone. But it takes genius to devise such schemes +as this. You will be a multi-millionairess before +you die, Nettie.” +</p> +<p> +“I expect to be,” returned the Southern girl. +“Now, listen: Each of these broad stairs will hold +four people comfortably. We will letter the stairs +and number the seats.” +</p> +<p> +“But those on the lower step will have their +feet in the water!” cried Ruth, in a gale of laughter. +</p> +<p> +“Very well. They will be nearest to the performers. +You say yourselves that you will probably +have to be barefooted, when you are down +there singing and playing,” said Nettie. “They +ought to pay an extra premium for being allowed +to be so near to the performers. That is ‘the bald-headed +row.’” +</p> +<p> +“And every bald head that sits there will have +a nice cold in his head,” Ruth declared. +</p> +<p> +However, Nettie had her way in every particular. +The next evening the auction of “reserved +seats and boxes” was held in the upper hall. Mr. +Jimson officiated as auctioneer and for an hour or +more the party managed to extract a great deal +of wholesome fun from the affair. +</p> +<p> +The deputy sheriff was made to subscribe for +the two lower tiers of seats on the stair at a good +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span> +price, because, as Mr. Jimson said, “he was the +bigges’ an’ fattes’ man in dis hyer destitute community.” +The other seats sold merrily. No one +hesitated over paying the admission fee. There +is nobody in the world as generous both in spirit +and actual practice as these Southern people. +</p> +<p> +Almost two hundred dollars was raised for +Curly’s benefit. The concert was held the afternoon +following the auctioning of the seats, and the +chums covered themselves with glory. +</p> +<p> +The piano was rolled out into the hall and the +negroes knocked together a platform on which +Ruth and Helen could stand and play, while Nettie +perched herself on the piano bench to accompany +them, and kept her feet out of the water. +</p> +<p> +They sang the old glees together—all three of +them, for Nettie possessed a sweet contralto voice. +Ruth’s ballads were appreciated to the full and +Helen—although the instrument she used was so +poor a one—delighted the audience with her playing. +</p> +<p> +When she softly played the old, sweet harmonies, +and Ruth sang them, the applause from +Curly’s couch at the end of the hall to the foot of +the stairs where the deputy sheriff sat with his +boots in the water, was tremendous. +</p> +<p> +The concert ended with the girls standing in a +row with clasped hands and for the glory of Briarwood +giving the old Sweetbriar “war-cry:” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +</p> +<p> + “S. B.—Ah-h-h!<br /> + S. B.—Ah-h-h!<br /> + Sound our battle-cry<br /> + Near and far!<br /> + S. B.—All!<br /> + Briarwood Hall!<br /> + Sweetbriars, do or die——<br /> + This be our battle-cry——<br /> + Briarwood Hall!<br /> + <em>That’s All!</em>”<br /> +</p> +<p> +During all the time it had rained intermittently, +and the river did not show any signs of abating. +But the morning following the very successful +“chamber concert,” a large launch chugged up to +the submerged steps of the hotel on Holloway +Island. In it was Mrs. Rachel Parsons, and with +her was the negro from the warehouse who had +been swept down the river on the log when Mr. +Jimson’s bateau made its landing at the island. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Parsons had been unable to get to Charleston +after all because of washouts on the railroad, +and had come back to Georgetown, heard of the +marooning on the island of the pleasure party +and at the first opportunity had come up the river +to rescue Nettie, Ruth and Helen. +</p> +<p> +A plank was laid for Mrs. Parsons from the +bow of the launch to the lower step of the flight +leading to the second story of the hotel. Mrs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +Holloway came down in a flutter to meet the lady +of the Big House. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Parsons, however, had gone straight to +Nettie’s room and was shut in with her niece for +half an hour before she had anything to say to the +hotel keeper’s wife, or to anybody else. Then +she went first to see poor Curly, who was feverish +and in much pain. +</p> +<p> +Just as Mrs. Parsons and her niece were passing +down the hall they met Miss Miggs. Nettie +shot the maiden lady an angry glance and moved +carefully to one side. +</p> +<p> +“Is this the—the person who has circulated the +false reports about Ruth and Helen?” asked Mrs. +Parsons, sternly. +</p> +<p> +“No false reports, I’d have you know, ma’am!” +cried Martha Miggs, “right on deck,” Curly said +afterwards, “to repel boarders.” “I’d have you +know I am just as good as you are, and I’m just +as much respected in my own place,” she continued. +Miss Miggs’ troubles and consequent nervous +break had really left her in such a condition +that she was not fully responsible for what she did +and said. +</p> +<p> +“I have no doubt of that,” said Mrs. Parsons, +quietly. “But I wish to know what your meaning +is in trying to injure the reputation of two young +girls.” +</p> +<p> +The little group had reached Curly’s bedside; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +but they did not notice that young invalid. Ruth +had risen from her seat nervously, wishing that +Nettie’s Aunt Rachel had not brought the unpleasant +subject to the surface again. +</p> +<p> +“I could not injure the reputation of a couple +of young minxes like these!” declared Miss Miggs, +angrily. “I put the ticket in the railroad folder, +and laid it on the seat beside me in the steamer’s +saloon, and when I got up I forgot to take the +folder with me. These girls were the only people +in sight. They were watching me, and when my +back was turned they took the ticket and folder.” +</p> +<p> +“Who?” suddenly shouted a voice behind them, +and before any of the party could reply to Miss +Miggs’ absurd accusation. +</p> +<p> +Curly was sitting up in bed, his cheeks very red +and his eyes bright with fever; but he was in his +right senses. +</p> +<p> +“Those girls did it!” snapped Miss Miggs. +</p> +<p> +“They didn’t, either!” cried Curly. “I did it. +Now you can have me arrested if you want to!” +added the boy, falling back on his pillows. “I +didn’t know the ticket belonged to anybody. When +I was drying my things aboard that fishing boat, +I found it in a folder that I had picked up in the +cabin of the steamer. I s’posed it was a ticket the +railroad gave away with the folder, until I asked +a railroad man if it was good, and he said it was as +good as any other ticket. So I rode down to Pee +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +Dee on it from Norfolk. There now! If that’s +stealin’, then I <em>have</em> stolen, and Gran is right—I’m +a thief!” +</p> +<p> +Even as obstinate a person as Miss Miggs was +forced to believe this story, for its truth was self-evident. +It completely ended the controversy +about the lost ticket; but Curly Smith was not satisfied +until enough money was taken out of the fund +raised for his benefit to reimburse Mrs. Holloway +for the purchase-money of the ticket she had sent +to her New England cousin. +</p> +<p> +“I wish, Martha, I had never invited you down +here,” the hotel keeper’s wife was heard to tell +the New England woman. “You’ve made me +trouble enough. I will never be able to pacify +Mrs. Parsons. She is going to take the young +ladies and the boy away at once, and I know that +she will never again give me her good word with +any of her wealthy friends. Your ill-temper has +cost me enough, I am sure.” +</p> +<p> +Perhaps it had cost Miss Miggs a good deal, +too; only Miss Miggs was the sort of obstinate +person who never does or will acknowledge that +she is wrong. +</p> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span><a name='chXXV' id='chXXV'></a>CHAPTER XXV—BACK HOME</h2> +<p> +Mrs. Rachel Parsons marveled at what the +girls had done in raising money for Curly Smith. +He would have money enough to keep him at the +hospital until his leg was healed, and to spare. +</p> +<p> +Curly was not to be arrested. Deputy Sheriff +Ricketts went with the party on the launch back +to Georgetown, picking up his own lost launch by +the way, uninjured, and saw the boy housed in a +private room of the hospital. Then he, as well +as Ruth, received news about Curly. +</p> +<p> +The letter from Mrs. Sadoc Smith at last arrived. +In it the unhappy woman opened her heart +to Ruth again and begged her to send or bring +Curly home. It had been discovered that the boy +had nothing to do with the robbery of the railroad +station at Lumberton. +</p> +<p> +“And who didn’t know that?” sniffed Helen. +“Of course he didn’t.” +</p> +<p> +Mr. Ricketts, too, received information that +called him off the case. “That there li’le Yankee +boy ain’t t’ be arrested after all,” he confessed to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +Ruth. “Guess he jest got in wrong up No’th. +But yo’d better take him back with you when you +go, Miss Ruth, He needs somebody to take care +of him—sho’ do!” +</p> +<p> +The river subsided and the girls went back to +Merredith. They spent the next fortnight delightfully +and then the chums from Cheslow got +ready to start home. They could not take Curly +with them; but he would be sent to New York by +steamer just as soon as the doctors could get him +upon crutches; and eventually the boy from Lumberton +returned to his grandmother, a much wiser +lad than when he left her home and care. +</p> +<p> +The days at Merredith, all things considered, +had been very delightful. But the weather was +growing very oppressive for Northerners. Ruth +and Helen bade Mrs. Parsons and Nettie and +everybody about the Big House, including Mr. +Jimson, good-bye and caught the train for Norfolk. +They had a day to wait there, and so they +went across in the ferry to Old Point Comfort, +found Unc’ Simmy, and were driven out to the +gatehouse to see Miss Catalpa. +</p> +<p> +“And we sho’ done struck luck, missy,” Unc’ +Simmy confided to Ruth. “Kunnel Wildah done +foun’ some mo’ money b’longin’ t’ Miss Catalpa, +an’ it’s wot he calls a ‘nuity. It comes reg’lar, like +a man’s wages,” and the old darkey’s smile was +beautiful to see. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +</p> +<p> +“Now Miss Catalpa kin have mo’ of the fixin’s +like she’s use to. Glory!” +</p> +<p> +“He is the most unselfish person I have ever +met,” said Ruth to Helen. “It makes me ashamed +to see how he thinks only of that dear blind +woman.” +</p> +<p> +Miss Catalpa welcomed the chums delightedly; +and they took tea with her on the vine-shaded +porch of the old gatehouse, Unc’ Simmy doing the +honors in his ancient butler’s coat. It was a very +delightful party, indeed, and Helen as well as Ruth +went away at last hoping that she would some time +see the sweet-natured Miss Catalpa again. +</p> +<p> +Three days later Mr. Cameron’s automobile +deposited Ruth at the Red Mill—her arrival so +soon being quite unexpected to the bent old woman +rocking and sewing in the cheerful window of the +farmhouse kitchen. +</p> +<p> +When Ruth ran up the steps and in at the door, +Aunt Alvirah was quite startled. She dropped +her sewing and rose up creakingly, with a murmured, +“Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!” but +she reached her thin arms out to clasp her hands +at the back of Ruth Fielding’s neck, and looked +long and earnestly into the girl’s eyes. +</p> +<p> +“My pretty’s growing up—she’s growing up!” +cried Aunt Alvirah. “She ain’t a child no more. +I can’t scurce believe it. What have you seen down +South there that’s made you so old-like, honey?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +</p> +<p> +“I guess it is not age, Aunt Alvirah,” declared +Ruth. “Maybe I have seen some things that have +made me thoughtful. And have endured some +things that were hard. And had some pleasures +that I never had before.” +</p> +<p> +“Just the same, my pretty!” crooned the old +woman. “Just as thoughtful as ever. You surely +have an old head on those pretty young shoulders. +Oh, yes you have.” +</p> +<p> +“And maybe that isn’t a good thing to have, +after all—an old head on young shoulders,” +thought Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill the night +of her return, as she sat at her little chamber window +and looked out across the rolling Lumano. +“Helen is happier than I am; she doesn’t worry +about herself or anybody else. +</p> +<p> +“Now I’m worrying about what’s to happen to +me. Briarwood is a thing of the past. Dear, old +Briarwood Hall! Shall I ever be as happy again +as I was there? +</p> +<p> +“I see college ahead of me in the fall. Of +course, my expenses for several years are assured. +Mr. Hammond writes me that he will take another +moving picture scenario. I have found out that +my voice—as well as Helen’s violin playing—can +be coined. I am going to be self-supporting and +that, as Mrs. Parsons says, is a heap of satisfaction. +</p> +<p> +“I need trouble Uncle Jabez no more for money. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +But I can’t remain in idleness—that’s ‘agin nater,’ +to quote Aunt Alvirah. I know what I’ll do! I’ll—I’ll +go to bed!” +</p> +<p> +She arose from her seat with a laugh and began +to disrobe. Ten minutes later, her prayers said +and her hair in two neat plaits on the pillow, Ruth +Fielding fell asleep. +</p> +<div class='center'> +<p> </p> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE RUTH FIELDING SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By ALICE B. EMERSON +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i003' id='i003'></a> +<img src='images/z217.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +<i>12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i> +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding was an orphan and came to live with her miserly +uncle. Her adventures and travels make stories that will hold the +interest of every reader. +</p> +<p> +Ruth Fielding is a character that will live in juvenile fiction. +</p> +<p> + 1. RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL<br /> + 2. RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL<br /> + 3. RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP<br /> + 4. RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT<br /> + 5. RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH<br /> + 6. RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND<br /> + 7. RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM<br /> + 8. RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES<br /> + 9. RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES<br /> + 10. RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE<br /> + 11. RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE<br /> + 12. RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE<br /> + 13. RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS<br /> + 14. RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT<br /> + 15. RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND<br /> + 16. RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST<br /> + 17. RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST<br /> + 18. RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE<br /> + 19. RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING<br /> + 20. RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH<br /> + 21. RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS<br /> + 22. RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA<br /> + 23. RUTH FIELDING AND HER GREAT SCENARIO<br /> + 24. RUTH FIELDING AT CAMERON HALL<br /> + 25. RUTH FIELDING CLEARING HER NAME<br /> + 26. RUTH FIELDING IN TALKING PICTURES<br /> + 27. RUTH FIELDING AND BABY JUNE<br /> + 28. RUTH FIELDING AND HER DOUBLE<br /> + 29. RUTH FIELDING AND HER GREATEST TRIUMPH<br /> + 30. RUTH FIELDING AND HER CROWNING VICTORY<br /> +</p> +<p> +These books may be purchased wherever books are sold +</p> +<p> +<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>MYSTERY BOOKS FOR GIRLS</span> +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i004' id='i004'></a> +<img src='images/z218.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +<i>12mo. Illustrated. Colored jackets.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i> +</p> +<p> +<b>THE JADE NECKLACE,</b> +by <span class='sc'>Pemberton Ginther</span> +</p> +<p> +Roslyn Blake possesses a necklace of ancient +Chinese design and of mysterious origin. It +brings both hope and fear. Strange events result +in its loss, but her courage and the friendship +of Dr. Briggs help her to solve the mystery. +</p> +<p> +<b>THE THIRTEENTH SPOON,</b> +by <span class='sc'>Pemberton Ginther</span> +</p> +<p> +A mystery story for girls, that holds the interest from the first word to +the last. Twelve famous Apostle spoons, and the thirteenth, the Master +Spoon vanish. Who has stolen them? Carol’s courage solves the mystery +in an original and exciting story. +</p> +<p> +<b>THE SECRET STAIR,</b> +by <span class='sc'>Pemberton Ginther</span> +</p> +<p> +The ‘Van Dirk Treasure’ is a manuscript jewelled and illuminated. The +treasure is hidden in the old family mansion where Sally Shaw goes to +live. Strange events occur. The house is thought to be haunted. The +Book vanishes. Its recovery makes a most unusual story. +</p> +<p> +<b>THE DOOR IN THE MOUNTAIN,</b> +by <span class='sc'>Isola L. Forrester</span> +</p> +<p> +The four McLeans, three boys and a plucky girl, lived just outside of +Frisbee, Arizona, on Los Flores Canyon, thirty miles from even the railroad. +But adventure lurks in unexpected places, and when Katherine and Peter +chanced on the Door in the Mountain, a legend that held considerable mystery +for the community, the adventure proved the courage and ingenuity of all +the McLeans. +</p> +<p> +<b>SECRET OF THE DARK HOUSE,</b> +by <span class='sc'>Frances Y. Young</span> +</p> +<p> +Jean had an inquiring mind, and any event that she could not understand +aroused her curiosity to the ’nth degree. A charming stranger in the +schoolroom, a taciturn chauffeur, a huge dark house, strange robberies in +the neighborhood, and a secretive old man who always wore a disguise, combined +to put Jean on a hunt that before it was over involved brothers, sisters, +police, famous detectives, Smuff, her dog, in one grand mystery story that +every girl will enjoy reading. +</p> +<p> +These books may be purchased wherever books are sold +</p> +<p> +<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE MAXIE SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By ELSIE B. GARDNER +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i005' id='i005'></a> +<img src='images/z219.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +<i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored Jacket.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i> +</p> +<p> +Maxie is such an interesting, delightful, amusing character that +everyone will love and long remember her. She has the ability of +turning every event in her life into the most absorbing and +astounding adventures, and when she is sent to visit her only +other Uncle in the British West Indies, it proves to be the +beginning of not only an entirely new mode of living, but a +series of tremendously thrilling adventures and stirring deeds +that every girl will thoroughly enjoy. +</p> +<p> +<b>1. MAXIE, AN ADORABLE GIRL</b> +<i>or Her Adventures in the British West Indies</i> +</p> +<p> +<b>2. MAXIE IN VENEZUELA</b> +<i>or The Clue to the Diamond Mine</i> +</p> +<p> +<b>3. MAXIE, SEARCHING FOR HER PARENTS</b> +<i>or The Mystery in Australian Waters</i> +</p> +<p> +<b>4. MAXIE AT BRINKSOME HALL</b> +<i>or Strange Adventures with Her Chums</i> +</p> +<p> +These books may be purchased wherever books are sold +</p> +<p> +<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE BARTON BOOKS FOR GIRLS</span> +</p> +<p> +By MAY HOLLIS BARTON +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i006' id='i006'></a> +<img src='images/z220.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +<i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With colored Jacket.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i> +</p> +<p> +May Hollis Barton is a new writer for +girls who is bound to win instant popularity. +Her style is somewhat of a reminder of that +of Louisa M. Alcott, but thoroughly up-to-date +in plot and action. Clean tales that all +the girls will enjoy reading. +</p> +<p> + 1. THE GIRL FROM THE COUNTRY<br /> + 2. THREE GIRL CHUMS AT LAUREL HALL<br /> + 3. NELL GRAYSON’S RANCHING DAYS<br /> + 4. FOUR LITTLE WOMEN OF ROXBY<br /> + 5. PLAIN JANE AND PRETTY BETTY<br /> + 6. LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE<br /> + 7. HAZEL HOOD’S STRANGE DISCOVERY<br /> + 8. TWO GIRLS AND A MYSTERY<br /> + 9. THE GIRLS OF LIGHTHOUSE ISLAND<br /> + 10. KATE MARTIN’S PROBLEM<br /> + 11. THE GIRL IN THE TOP FLAT<br /> + 12. THE SEARCH FOR PEGGY ANN<br /> + 13. SALLIE’S TEST OF SKILL<br /> + 14. CHARLOTTE CROSS AND AUNT DEB<br /> + 15. VIRGINIA’S VENTURE<br /> +</p> +<p> +<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>KAY TRACEY MYSTERY STORIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By FRANCES K. JUDD +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i007' id='i007'></a> +<img src='images/z221.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +<i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i> +</p> +<p> +Meet clever Kay Tracey, who, though only sixteen, solves +mysteries in a surprising manner. Working on clues which she +assembles, this surprising heroine supplies the solution to cases +that have baffled professional sleuths. The Kay Tracey Mystery +Stories will grip a reader from start to finish. +</p> +<p> +<b>1. THE SECRET OF THE RED SCARF</b> +</p> +<p> +A case of mistaken identity at a masquerade leads Kay into a +delightful but mysterious secret. +</p> +<p> +<b>2. THE STRANGE ECHO</b> +</p> +<p> +Lost Lake had two mysteries—an old one and a new one. Kay, +visiting there, solves both of them by deciphering a strange echo. +</p> +<p> +<b>3. THE MYSTERY OF THE SWAYING CURTAINS</b> +</p> +<p> +Heavy draperies swaying in a lonely mansion give the clue +which is needed to solve a mystery that has defied professional +investigators but proves to be fun for the attractive and clever +Kay Tracey. +</p> +<p> +<b>4. THE SHADOW ON THE DOOR</b> +</p> +<p> +Was the shadow on the door made by a human being or an +animal? Apparently without explanation Kay Tracey, after some +exciting work solved the mystery and was able to help a small +child out of an unfortunate situation. +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK +</p> +<p> + <br /> + <br /> + <br /> +</p> +<p> +<span style='font-size:larger;font-weight:bold;'>THE BETTY GORDON SERIES</span> +</p> +<p> +By ALICE B. EMERSON +</p> +<p> +Author of the “Ruth Fielding Series” +</p> +<div class='figleft' style='padding-top: 1em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='i008' id='i008'></a> +<img src='images/z222.jpg' alt='' title=''/><br /> +</div> +<p> +<i>12mo. Illustrated. Jacket in full colors.</i> +</p> +<p> +<i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional.</i> +</p> +<p> +A new series of stories bound to make this writer more popular +than ever with her host of girl readers. Every one will want to +know Betty Gordon, and every one will be sure to love her. +</p> +<p> + 1. BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM<br /> + 2. BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON<br /> + 3. BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL<br /> + 4. BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL<br /> + 5. BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP<br /> + 6. BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK<br /> + 7. BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS<br /> + 8. BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH<br /> + 9. BETTY GORDON IN MEXICAN WILDS<br /> + 10. BETTY GORDON AND THE LOST PEARLS<br /> + 11. BETTY GORDON ON THE CAMPUS<br /> + 12. BETTY GORDON AND THE HALE TWINS<br /> + 13. BETTY GORDON AT MYSTERY FARM<br /> + 14. BETTY GORDON ON NO-TRAIL ISLAND<br /> + 15. BETTY GORDON AND THE MYSTERY GIRL<br /> +</p> +<p> +<i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i> +</p> +<p> +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, <i>Publishers</i> NEW YORK +</p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie, by Alice B. 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