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diff --git a/38743-0.txt b/38743-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6373fd --- /dev/null +++ b/38743-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7331 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS +HOW +THEY MOVED TO MILTON, WHAT THEY FOUND, AND WHAT THEY DID *** + + + + +[Illustration: Finding the will. In a moment the panel dropped down, +leaving in view a very narrow depository for papers. _Frontispiece._] + + + + +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS + + HOW THEY MOVED TO MILTON + WHAT THEY FOUND + AND WHAT THEY DID + +BY + +GRACE BROOKS HILL + +Author of “The Corner House Girls at School,” “The +Corner House Girls Under Canvas,” etc. + +_ILLUSTRATED BY_ + +_R. EMMETT OWEN_ + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +PUBLISHERS + +NEW YORK, N. Y.—NEWARK, N. J. + + + + +BOOKS FOR GIRLS + +The Corner House Girls Series + +By Grace Brooks Hill + +_Illustrated._ + + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS’ ODD FIND + THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR + +(_Other volumes in preparation_) + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +Publishers—New York + +Copyright, 1915, + +by + +Barse & Hopkins + +_The Corner House Girls_ + +Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + I “Left High and Dry” + II Uncle Peter’s Will + III The Old Corner House + IV Getting Settled + V Getting Acquainted + VI Uncle Rufus + VII Their Circle of Interest Widens + VIII The Cat that Went Back + IX The Vanishing Kittens + X Ruth Sees Something + XI In the Garret + XII Mrs. Kranz Comes to Call + XIII The Maronis + XIV Five Cents’ Worth of Peppermints + XV “A Dish of Gossip” + XVI More Mysteries + XVII “Mrs. Trouble” + XVIII Ruth Does what She Thinks is Right + XIX “Double Trouble” + XX Mr. Howbridge is Perplexed + XXI The Corner House Girls Win Public Approval + XXII Callers—and the Ghost + XXIII Not Entirely Explained + XXIV Aunt Sarah Speaks Out + XXV Laying the Ghost + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +Finding the will. In a moment the panel dropped down, leaving in view +a very narrow depository for papers + +She forgot her kittens and everything else, and scrambled up the tree +for dear life + +“Looker yere! Looker yere! Missie Ruth! There’s dem dried apples, +buried in de groun’” + +Up came Tommy again, his eyes open, gurgling a cry, and fighting to +keep above the surface + + + + +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS + + + + +CHAPTER I + +“LEFT HIGH AND DRY” + + +“Look out, Dot! You’ll fall off that chair as sure as you live, +child!” + +Tess was bustling and important. It was baking day in the Kenway +household. She had the raisins to stone, and the smallest Kenway was +climbing up to put the package of raisins back upon the cupboard +shelf. + +There was going to be a cake for the morrow. Ruth was a-flour to her +elbows, and Aggie was stirring the eggs till the beater was just +“a-whiz.” + +Crash! Bang! Over went the chair; down came Dot; and the raisins +scattered far and wide over the freshly scrubbed linoleum. + +Fortunately the little busy-body was not hurt. “What did I tell you?” +demanded the raisin-seeder, after Ruth had made sure there were no +broken bones, and only a “skinned” place on Dot’s wrist. “What did I +tell you? You are such a careless child!” + +Dot’s face began to “cloud up,” but it did not rain, for Aggie said +kindly: + +“Don’t mind what she says, Dot. Leave those raisins to me. You run get +your hat on. Tess has finished seeding that cupful. Now it’s time you +two young ones went on that errand. Isn’t that so, Ruth?” + +The elder sister agreed as she busily mixed the butter and flour. +Butter was high. She put in what she thought they could afford, and +then she shut her eyes tight, and popped in another lump! + +On a bright and sunny day, like this one, the tiny flat at the top of +the Essex Street tenement was a cheerful place. Ruth was a very +capable housekeeper. She had been such for two years previous to their +mother’s death, for Mrs. Kenway had been obliged to go out to work. + +Now, at sixteen, Ruth felt herself to be very much grown up. It is +often responsibility and not years that ages one. + +If Ruth had “an old head on green shoulders,” there was reason for it. +For almost all the income the Kenways had was their father’s pension. + +The tide of misfortune which had threatened the family when the father +was killed in the Philippines, had risen to its flood at Mrs. Kenway’s +death two years before this day, and had now left the Kenway girls +high and dry upon the strand of an ugly tenement, in an ugly street, +of the very ugliest district of Bloomingsburg. + +The girls were four—and there was Aunt Sarah Stower. There were no +boys; there never had been any boys in the Kenway family. Ruth said +she was glad; Aggie said _she_ was sorry; and as usual Tess sided with +the elder sister, while Dot agreed with the twelve-year-old Aggie that +a boy to do the chores would be “sort of nice.” + +“S’pose he was like that bad Tommy Rooney, who jumps out of the dark +corners on the stairs to scare you, Dot Kenway?” demanded the +ten-year-old Tess, seriously. + +“Why, he couldn’t be like Tommy—not if he was _our_ brother,” said +the smallest girl, with conviction. + +“Well, he might,” urged Tess, who professed a degree of experience and +knowledge of the world far beyond that of her eight-year-old sister. +“You see, you can’t always sometimes tell about _boys_.” + +Tess possessed a strong sense of duty, too. She would not allow Dot, +on this occasion, to leave the raisins scattered over the floor. Down +the two smaller girls got upon their hands and knees and picked up the +very last of the dried fruit before they went for their hats. + +“Whistle, Dot—you must whistle,” commanded Tess. “You know, that’s +the only way not to yield to temptation, when you’re picking up +raisins.” + +“I—I can’t whistle, Tess,” claimed Dot. + +“Well! pucker up, anyway,” said Tess. “You can’t do _that_ with +raisins in your mouth,” and she proceeded to falteringly whistle +several bars of “Yankee Doodle” herself, to prove to the older girls +that the scattered raisins _she_ found were going into their proper +receptacle. + +The Kenway girls had to follow many economies, and had learned early +to be self-denying. Ruth was so busy and so anxious, she declared +herself, she did not have time to be pretty like other girls of her +age. She had stringy black hair that never would look soft and wavy, +as its owner so much desired. + +She possessed big, brown eyes—really wonderful eyes, if she had only +known it. People sometimes said she was intellectual looking; that was +because of her high, broad brow. + +She owned little color, and she had contracted a nervous habit of +pressing her lips tight together when she was thinking. But she +possessed a laugh that fairly jumped out at you from her eyes and +mouth, it was so unexpected. + +Ruth Kenway might not attract much attention at first glance, but if +you looked at her a second time, you were bound to see something in +her countenance that held you, and interested you. + +“Do smile oftener, Ruth,” begged jolly, roly-poly Agnes. “You always +look just as though you were figuring how many pounds of round steak +go into a dollar.” + +“I guess I _am_ thinking of that most of the time,” sighed the oldest +Kenway girl. + +Agnes was as plump as a partridge. When she tried to keep her face +straight, the dimples just _would_ peep out. She laughed easily, and +cried stormily. + +She said herself that she had “bushels of molasses colored hair,” and +her blue eyes could stare a rude boy out of countenance—only she had +to spoil the effect the next moment by giggling. Another thing, Agnes +usually averaged two “soul chums” among her girl friends at school, +per week! + +Tess (nobody ever remembered she had been christened Theresa) had some +of Ruth’s dignity and some of Aggie’s good looks. She was the quick +girl at her books; she always got along nicely with grown-ups; they +said she had “tact”; and she had the kindest heart of any girl in the +world. + +Dot, or Dorothy, was the baby, and was a miniature of Ruth, as far as +seriousness of demeanor, and hair and eyes went. She was a little +brunette fairy, with the most delicately molded limbs, a faint blush +in her dark cheeks, and her steady gravity delighted older people. +They said she was “such an old-fashioned little thing.” + +It was Saturday. From the street below shrill voices rose in a +nightmare of sound that broke in a nerve-racking wave upon the ears. +Numerous wild Red Indians could make no more savage sounds, if they +were burning a captive at the stake. + +It was the children on the block, who had no other playground. Dot +shuddered to venture forth into the turmoil of the street, and Tess +had to acknowledge a faster beating of her own heart. + +Dot had her “Alice-doll”—her choicest possession. They were going to +the green grocer’s, at the corner, and to the drug store. + +At the green grocer’s they were to purchase a cabbage, two quarts of +potatoes, and two pennies’ worth of soup greens. At the drug store +they would buy the usual nickel’s worth of peppermint drops for Aunt +Sarah. + +Every Saturday since Dot could remember—and since Tess could +remember—and since Agnes could remember—even every Saturday since +Ruth could remember, there had been five cents’ worth of peppermint +drops bought for Aunt Sarah. + +The larder might be very nearly bare; shoes might be out at toe and +stockings out at heel; there might be a dearth of food on the table; +but Aunt Sarah must not be disappointed in her weekly treat. + +“It is the only pleasure the poor creature has,” their mother was wont +to say. “Why deprive her of it? There is not much that seems to please +Aunt Sarah, and this is a small thing, children.” + +Even Dot was old enough to remember the dear little mother saying +this. It was truly a sort of sacred bequest, although their mother had +not made it a mandatory charge upon the girls. + +“But mother never forgot the peppermints herself. Why should we forget +them?” Ruth asked. + +Aunt Sarah Stower was a care, too, left to the Kenway girls’ charge. +Aunt Sarah was an oddity. + +She seldom spoke, although her powers of speech were not in the least +impaired. Moreover, she seldom moved from her chair during the day, +where she sewed, or crocheted; yet she had the active use of her +limbs. + +Housework Aunt Sarah abhorred. She had never been obliged to do it as +a girl and young woman; so she had never lifted her hand to aid in +domestic tasks since coming to live with the Kenways—and Ruth could +barely remember her coming. + +Aunt Sarah was only “Aunt” to the Kenway girls by usage. She was +merely their mother’s uncle’s half-sister! “And _that’s_ a +relationship,” as Aggie said, “that would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer +to figure out.” + +As Tess and Dot came down the littered stoop of the tall brick house +they lived in, a rosy, red-haired boy, with a snub nose and twinkling +blue eyes, suddenly popped up before them. He was dressed in fringed +leggings and jacket, and wore a band of feathers about his cap. + +“Ugh! Me heap big Injun,” he exclaimed, brandishing a wooden tomahawk +before the faces of the startled girls. “Scalp white squaw! Kill +papoose!” and he clutched at the Alice-doll. + +Dot screamed—as well she might. The thought of seeing her most +beloved child in the hands of this horrid apparition—— + +“Now, you just stop bothering us, Tommy Rooney!” commanded Tess, +standing quickly in front of her sister. “You go away, or I’ll tell +your mother.” + +“Aw—‘Tell-tale tit! Your tongue shall be split!’” scoffed the dancing +Indian. “Give me the papoose. Make heap big Injun of it.” + +Dot was actually crying. Tess raised her hand threateningly. + +“I don’t want to hurt you, Tommy Rooney,” she said, decisively, “but I +shall slap you, if you don’t let us alone.” + +“Aw—would you? would you? Got to catch first,” shouted Tommy, making +dreadful grimaces. His cheeks were painted in black and red stripes, +and these decorations added to Dot’s fright. “You can’t scare me!” he +boasted. + +But he kept his distance and Tess hurried Dot along the street. There +were some girls they knew, for they went to the public school with +them, but Tess and Dot merely spoke to them and passed right on. + +“We’ll go to the drug store first,” said the older girl. “Then we +won’t be bothered with the vegetable bags while we’re getting Aunt +Sarah’s peppermints.” + +“Say, Tess!” said Dot, gulping down a dry sob. + +“Yes?” + +“Don’t you wish we could get something ’sides those old peppermint +drops?” + +“But Ruthie hasn’t any pennies to spare this week. She told us so.” + +“Never _does_ have pennies to spare,” declared Dot, with finality. +“But I mean I wish Aunt Sarah wanted some other kind of candy besides +peppermints.” + +“Why, Dot Kenway! she always has peppermints. She always takes some in +her pocket to church on Sunday, and eats them while the minister +preaches. You know she does.” + +“Yes, I know it,” admitted Dot. “And I know she always gives us each +one before we go to Sunday School. That’s why I wish we could buy her +some other kind of candy. I’m tired of pep’mints. I think they are a +most unsat—sat’s_fac_tory candy, Tess.” + +“Well! I am amazed at you, Dot Kenway,” declared Tess, with her most +grown-up air. “You know we couldn’t any more change, and buy +wintergreen, or clove, or lemon-drops, than we could _fly_. Aunt +Sarah’s got to have just what she wants.” + +“Has she?” queried the smaller girl, doubtfully. “I wonder why?” + +“Because she _has_,” retorted Tess, with unshaken belief. + +The drops were purchased; the vegetables were purchased; the sisters +were homeward bound. Walking toward their tenement, they overtook and +passed a tall, gray haired gentleman in a drab morning coat and hat. +He was not a doctor, and he was not dressed like a minister; therefore +he was a curious-looking figure in this part of Bloomingsburg, +especially at this hour. + +Tess looked up slyly at him as she and Dot passed. He was a cleanly +shaven man with thin, tightly shut lips, and many fine lines about the +corners of his mouth and about his eyes. He had a high, hooked nose, +too—so high, and such a barrier to the rest of his face, that his +sharp gray eyes seemed to be looking at the world in general over a +high board fence. + +Dot was carrying the peppermint drops—and carrying them carefully, +while Tess’ hands were occupied with the other purchases. So Master +Tommy Rooney thought he saw his chance. + +“Candy! candy!” he yelled, darting out at them from an areaway. “Heap +big Injun want candy, or take white squaw’s papoose! Ugh!” + +Dot screamed. Tess tried to defend her and the white bag of +peppermints. But she was handicapped with her own bundles. Tommy was +as quick—and as slippery—as an eel. + +Suddenly the gentleman in the silk hat strode forward, thrust his +gold-headed walking stick between Tommy’s lively legs, and tripped +that master of mischief into the gutter. + +Tommy scrambled up, gave one glance at the tall gentleman and fled, +affrighted. The gentleman looked down at Tess and Dot. + +“Oh, thank you, sir!” said the bigger girl. “We’re much obliged!” + +“Yes! A knight to the rescue, eh? Do you live on this block, little +lady?” he asked, and when he smiled his face was a whole lot +pleasanter than it was in repose. + +“Yes, sir. Right there at Number 80.” + +“Number 80?” repeated the gentleman, with some interest. “Is there a +family in your house named Kenway?” + +“Oh, yes, sir! _We’re_ the Kenways—two of them,” declared Tess, while +Dot was a little inclined to put her finger in her mouth and watch him +shyly. + +“Ha!” exclaimed the stranger. “Two of Leonard Kenway’s daughters? Is +your mother at home?” + +“We—we haven’t any mother—not now, sir,” said Tess, more faintly. + +“Not living? I had not heard. Then, who is the head of the household?” + +“Oh, you want to see Ruth,” cried Tess. “She’s the biggest. It must be +Ruth you want to see.” + +“Perhaps you are right,” said the gentleman, eyeing the girls +curiously. “If she is the chief of the clan, it is she I must see. I +have come to inform her of her Uncle Peter Stower’s death.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +UNCLE PETER’S WILL + + +Tess and Dot were greatly excited. As they climbed up the long and +semi-dark flights to the little flat at the top of the house, they +clung tightly to each other’s hands and stared, round-eyed, at each +other on the landings. + +Behind them labored the tall, gray gentleman. They could hear him +puffing heavily on the last flight. + +Dot had breath left to burst open the kitchen door and run to tell +Ruth of the visitor. + +“Oh! oh! Ruthie!” gasped the little girl. “There’s a man dead out here +and Uncle Peter’s come to tell you all about it!” + +“Why, Dot Kenway!” cried Tess, as the elder sister turned in amazement +at the first wild announcement of the visitor’s coming. “Can’t you get +anything straight? It isn’t Uncle Peter who wants to see you, Ruth. +Uncle Peter is dead.” + +“Uncle Peter Stower!” exclaimed Aggie, in awe. + +He was the Kenway girls’ single wealthy relative. He was considered +eccentric. He was—or had been—a bachelor and lived in Milton, an +upstate town some distance from Bloomingsburg, and had occupied, +almost alone, the old Stower homestead on the corner of Main and +Willow Streets—locally known as “the Old Corner House.” + +“Do take the gentleman to the parlor door,” said Ruth, hastily, +hearing the footstep of the visitor at the top of the stairs. “Dot, go +unlock that door, dear.” + +“Aunt Sarah’s sitting in there, Ruth,” whispered Aggie, hastily. + +“Well, but Aunt Sarah won’t bite him,” said Ruth, hurriedly removing +her apron and smoothing her hair. + +“Just think of Uncle Peter being dead,” repeated Aggie, in a daze. + +“And he was Aunt Sarah’s half brother, you know. Of course, neither +her father nor mother was Uncle Peter’s father or mother—their +parents were all married twice. And——” + +“Oh, don’t!” gasped the plump sister. “We never _can_ figure out the +relationship—you know we can’t, Ruth. Really, Aunt Sarah isn’t +blood-kin to us at all.” + +“Uncle Peter never would admit it,” said Ruth, slowly. “He was old +enough to object, mother said, when our grandfather married a second +time.” + +“Of course. I know,” acknowledged Aggie. “Aunt Sarah isn’t really a +Stower at all!” + +“But Aunt Sarah’s always said the property ought to come to her, when +Uncle Peter died.” + +“I hope he _has_ left her something—I do hope so. It would help out a +lot,” said Aggie, serious for the moment. + +“Why—yes. It would be easier for us to get along, if she had her own +support,” admitted Ruth. + +“And we’d save five cents a week for peppermints!” giggled Aggie +suddenly, seeing the little white bag of candy on the table. + +“How you do talk, Ag,” said Ruth, admonishingly, and considering +herself presentable, she went through the bedroom into the front room, +or “parlor,” of the flat. Aggie had to stay to watch the cake, which +was now turning a lovely golden brown in the oven. + +The tall, gray gentleman with the sharp eyes and beak-like nose, had +been ushered in by the two little girls and had thankfully taken a +seat. He was wiping his perspiring forehead with a checked silk +handkerchief, and had set the high hat down by his chair. + +Those quick, gray eyes of his had taken in all the neat poverty of the +room. A careful and tasteful young housekeeper was Ruth Kenway. +Everything was in its place; the pictures on the wall were hung +straight; there was no dust. + +In one of the two rockers sat Aunt Sarah. It was the most comfortable +rocker, and it was drawn to the window where the sun came in. Aunt +Sarah had barely looked up when the visitor entered, and of course she +had not spoken. Her knitting needles continued to flash in the +sunlight. + +She was a withered wisp of a woman, with bright brown eyes under +rather heavy brows. There were three deep wrinkles between those eyes. +Otherwise, Aunt Sarah did not show in her countenance many of the +ravages of time. + +Her hair was but slightly grayed; she wore it “crimped” on the sides, +doing it up carefully in cunning little “pigtails” every night before +she retired. She was scrupulous in the care of her hands; her plain +gingham dress was neat in every particular. + +Indeed, she was as prim and “old-maidish” as any spinster lady +possibly could be. Nothing ever seemed to ruffle Aunt Sarah. She lived +sort of a detached life in the Kenway family. Nothing went on that she +was not aware of, and often—as even Ruth admitted—she “had a finger +in the pie” which was not exactly needed! + +“I am Mr. Howbridge,” said the visitor, rising and putting out his +hand to the oldest Kenway girl, and taking in her bright appearance in +a single shrewd glance. + +On her part, Aunt Sarah nodded, and pressed her lips together firmly, +flashing him another birdlike look, as one who would say: “That is +what I expected. You could not hide your identity from me.” + +“I am—or was,” said the gentleman, clearing his throat and sitting +down again, but still addressing himself directly to Ruth, “Mr. Peter +Stower’s attorney and confidant in business—if he could be said to be +confidential with anybody. Mr. Stower was a very secretive man, young +lady.” + +Aunt Sarah pursed her lips and tossed her head, as though mentally +saying: “You can’t tell me anything about _that_.” + +Ruth said: “I have heard he was peculiar, sir. But I do not remember +of ever seeing him.” + +“You did see him, however,” said Mr. Howbridge. “That was when you +were a very little girl. If I am not mistaken, it was when this lady,” +and he bowed to the silent, knitting figure in the rocking-chair, “who +is known as your Aunt Sarah, came to live with your mother and +father.” + +“Possibly,” said Ruth, hastily. “I do not know.” + +“It was one of few events of his life, connected in any way with his +relatives, of which Mr. Stower spoke to me,” Mr. Howbridge said. “This +lady expressed a wish to live with your mother, and your Uncle Peter +brought her. I believe he never contributed to her support?” he added, +slowly. + +Aunt Sarah might have been a graven image, as far as expressing +herself upon _this_ point went. Her needles merely flashed in the +sunlight. Ruth felt troubled and somewhat diffident in speaking of the +matter. + +“I do not think either father or mother ever minded _that_,” she said. + +“Ah?” returned Mr. Howbridge. “And your mother has been dead how long, +my dear?” Ruth told him, and he nodded. “Your income was not increased +by her death? There was no insurance?” + +“Oh, no, sir.” + +He looked at her for a moment with some embarrassment, and cleared his +throat again before asking his next question. + +“Do you realize, my dear, that you and your sisters are the only +living, and direct, relatives of Mr. Peter Stower?” + +Ruth stared at him. She felt that her throat was dry, and she could +not bring her tongue into play. She merely shook her head slowly. + +“Through your mother, my dear, you and your sisters will inherit your +Great Uncle Peter’s property. It is considerable. With the old Corner +House and the tenement property in Milton, bonds and cash in bank, it +amounts to—approximately—a hundred thousand dollars.” + +“But—but——Aunt Sarah!” gasped Ruth, in surprise. + +“Ahem! your Aunt Sarah was really no relative of the deceased.” + +Here Aunt Sarah spoke up for the first time, her knitting needles +clicking. “I thank goodness I was not,” she said. “My father was a +Maltby, but Mr. Stower, Peter’s father, always wished me to be called +by his name. He always told my mother he should provide for me. I +have, therefore, looked to the Stower family for my support. It was +and is my right.” + +She tossed her head and pursed her lips again. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Howbridge. “I understand that the elder Mr. Stower +died intestate—without making a will, my dear,” he added, speaking +again to Ruth. “If he ever expressed his intention of remembering your +Aunt Sarah with a legacy, Mr. Peter Stower did not consider it +mandatory upon him.” + +“But of course Uncle Peter has remembered Aunt Sarah in _his_ will?” +questioned the dazed Ruth. + +“He most certainly did,” said Mr. Howbridge, more briskly. “His will +was fully and completely drawn. I drew it myself, and I still have the +notes in the old man’s handwriting, relating to the bequests. +Unfortunately,” added the lawyer, with a return to a grave manner, +“the actual will of Mr. Peter Stower cannot be found.” + +Aunt Sarah’s needles clicked sharply, but she did not look up. Ruth +stared, wide-eyed, at Mr. Howbridge. + +“As was his custom with important papers, Mr. Stower would not trust +even a safety deposit box with the custody of his will. He was +secretive, as I have said,” began the lawyer again. + +Then Aunt Sarah interrupted: “Just like a magpie,” she snapped. “I +know ’em—the Stowers. Peter was always doing it when he was a young +man—hidin’ things away—’fraid a body would see something, or know +something. That’s why he wanted to get _me_ out of the house. Oh, I +knew his doin’s and his goin’s-on!” + +“Miss Maltby has stated the case,” said Mr. Howbridge, bowing +politely. “Somewhere in the old house, of course, Mr. Stower hid the +will—and probably other papers of value. They will be found in time, +we hope. Meanwhile——” + +“Yes, sir?” queried Ruth, breathlessly, as the lawyer stopped. + +“Mr. Stower has been dead a fortnight,” explained the lawyer, quietly. +“Nobody knew as much about his affairs as myself. I have presented the +notes of his last will and testament—made quite a year ago—to the +Probate Court, and although they have no legal significance, the Court +agrees with me that the natural heirs of the deceased should enter +upon possession of the property and hold it until the complications +arising from the circumstances can be made straight.” + +“Oh, Aunt Sarah! I am so glad for you!” cried Ruth, clasping her hands +and smiling one of her wonderful smiles at the little old lady. + +Aunt Sarah tossed her head and pursed her lips, just as though she +said, “I have always told you so.” + +Mr. Howbridge cleared his throat again and spoke hastily: “You do not +understand, Miss Kenway. You and your sisters are the heirs at law. At +the best, Miss Maltby would receive only a small legacy under Mr. +Stower’s will. The residue of the estate reverts to you through your +mother, and I am nominally your guardian and the executor.” + +Ruth stared at him, open mouthed. The two little girls had listened +without clearly understanding all the particulars. Aggie had crept to +the doorway (the cake now being on the table and off her mind), and +she was the only one who uttered a sound. She said “Oh!” + +“You children—you four girls—are the heirs in question. I want you +to get ready to go to Milton as soon as possible. You will live in the +old Corner House and I shall see, with the Probate Court, that all +your rights are guarded,” Mr. Howbridge said. + +It was Dorothy, the youngest, who seemed first to appreciate the +significance of this great piece of news. She said, quite composedly: + +“Then we _can_ buy some candy ’sides those pep’mint drops for Aunt +Sarah, on Saturdays.” + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE OLD CORNER HOUSE + + +“Now,” said Tess, with her most serious air, “shall we take everything +in our playhouse, Dot, or shall we take only the best things?” + +“Oh-oo-ee!” sighed Dot. “It’s so hard to ’cide, Tess, just what _is_ +the best. ’Course, I’m going to take my Alice-doll and all her +things.” + +Tess pursed her lips. “That old cradle she used to sleep in when she +was little, is dreadfully shabby. And one of the rockers is loose.” + +“Oh, but Tess!” cried the younger girl. “It was _hers_. You know, when +she gets really growed up, she’ll maybe want it for a keepsake. Maybe +she’ll want dollies of her own to rock in it.” + +Dot did not lack imagination. The Alice-doll was a very real +personality to the smallest Kenway girl. + +Dot lived in two worlds—the regular, work-a-day world in which she +went to school and did her small tasks about the flat; and a much +larger, more beautiful world, in which the Alice-doll and kindred toys +had an actual existence. + +“And all the clothes she’s outgrown—and shoes—and everything?” +demanded Tess. Then, with a sigh: “Well, it will be an awful litter, +and Ruth says the trunks are just squeezed full right now!” + +The Kenways were packing up for removal to Milton. Mr. Howbridge had +arranged everything with Ruth, as soon as he had explained the change +of fortune that had come to the four sisters. + +None of them really understood what the change meant—not even Ruth. +They had always been used—ever since they could remember—to what +Aggie called “tight squeezing.” Mr. Howbridge had placed fifty dollars +in Ruth’s hand before he went away, and had taken a receipt for it. +None of the Kenways had ever before even _seen_ so much money at one +time. + +They were to abandon most of their poor possessions right here in the +flat, for their great uncle’s old house was crowded with furniture +which, although not modern, was much better than any of theirs. Aunt +Sarah was going to take her special rocker. She insisted upon that. + +“I won’t be beholden to Peter for even a chair to sit in!” she had +said, grimly, and that was all the further comment she made upon the +astounding statement of the lawyer, that the eccentric old bachelor +had not seen fit to will all his property to her! + +There was a bit of uncertainty and mystery about the will of Uncle +Peter, and about their right to take over his possessions. Mr. +Howbridge had explained that fully to Ruth. + +There was no doubt in his mind but that the will he had drawn for +Uncle Peter was still in existence, and that the old gentleman had +made no subsequent disposal of his property to contradict the terms of +the will the lawyer remembered. + +There were no other known heirs but the four Kenway sisters. Therefore +the Probate Court had agreed that the lawyer should enter into +possession of the property on behalf of Ruth and her sisters. + +As long as the will was not found, and admitted to probate, and its +terms clearly established in law, there was doubt and uncertainty +connected with the girls’ wonderful fortune. Some unexpected claimant +might appear to demand a share of the property. It was, in fact, now +allowed by the Court, that Mr. Howbridge and the heirs-at-law should +occupy the deceased’s home and administer the estate, being answerable +to the probate judge for all that was done. + +To the minds of Tess and Dot, all this meant little. Indeed, even the +two older girls did not much understand the complications. What Aunt +Sarah understood she managed, as usual, to successfully hide within +herself. + +There was to be a wonderful change in their affairs—that was the main +thing that impressed the minds of the four sisters. Dot had been the +first to express it concretely, when she suggested they might treat +themselves on Saturdays to something beside the usual five cents’ +worth of peppermint drops. + +“I expect,” said Tess, “that we won’t really know how to live, Dot, in +so big a house. Just think! there’s three stories and an attic!” + +“Just as if we were living in this very tenement all, all alone!” +breathed Dot, with awe. + +“Only much better—and bigger—and nicer,” said Tess, eagerly. “Ruth +remembers going there once with mother. Uncle Peter was sick. She +didn’t go up stairs, but stayed down with a big colored man—Uncle +Rufus. She ’members all about it. The room she stayed in was as big as +all these in our flat, put together.” + +This was too wonderful for Dot to really understand. But if Ruth said +it, it must be so. She finally sighed again, and said: + +“I—I guess I’ll be ’fraid in such rooms. And we’ll get lost in the +house, if it’s so big.” + +“No. Of course, we won’t live all over the house. Maybe we’ll live +days on the first floor, and sleep in bedrooms on the second floor, +and never go up stairs on the other floors at all.” + +“Oh, well!” said Dot, gaining sudden courage—and curiosity. “I guess +I’d want to see what’s on them, just the same.” + +There were people in the big tenement house quite as poor as the +Kenways themselves. Among these poor families Ruth distributed the +girls’ possessions that they did not wish to take to Milton. Tommy +Rooney’s mother was thankful for a bed and some dishes, and the +kitchen table. She gave Tommy a decisive thrashing, when she caught +him jumping out of the dark at Dot on the very last day but one, +before the Kenways left Essex Street for their new home. + +Master Tommy was sore in spirit and in body when he met Tess and Dot +on the sidewalk, later. There were tear-smears on his cheeks, but his +eyes began to snap as usual, when he saw the girls. + +“I don’t care,” he said. “I’m goin’ to run away from here, anyway, +before long. Just as soon as I get enough food saved up, and can swap +my alleys and chaneys with Billy Drake for his air-rifle.” + +“Why, Tommy Rooney!” exclaimed Tess. “Where are you going to run to?” + +“I—I——Well, that don’t matter! I’ll find some place. What sort of a +place is this you girls are going to? Is it ’way out west? If it is, +and there’s plenty of Injuns to fight with, and scalp, mebbe I’ll come +there with you.” + +Tess was against this instantly. “I don’t know about the Indians,” she +said; “but I thought you wanted to be an Indian yourself? You have an +Indian suit.” + +“Aw, I know,” said Master Tommy. “That’s Mom’s fault. I told her I +wanted to be a cowboy, but she saw them Injun outfits at a bargain and +she got one instead. I never did want to be an Injun, for when you +play with the other fellers, the cowboys always have to win the +battles. Best we Injuns can do is to burn a cowboy at the stake, once +in a while—like they do in the movin’ pitchers.” + +“Well, I’m sure there are not any Indians at Milton,” said Tess. “You +can’t come there, Tommy. And, anyway, your mother would only bring you +back and whip you again.” + +“She’d have to catch me first!” crowed the imp of mischief, who forgot +very quickly the smarts of punishment. “Once I get armed and +provisioned (I got more’n a loaf of bread and a whole tin of sardines +hid away in a place I won’t tell you where!), I’ll start off and Mom +won’t never find me—no, sir-ree, sir!” + +“You see what a bad, bad boy he is, Dot,” sighed Tess. “I’m so glad we +haven’t any brother.” + +“Oh, but if we did have,” said Dot, with assurance, “he’d be a cowboy +and not an Indian, from the very start!” + +This answer was too much for Tess! She decided to say no more about +boys, for it seemed as impossible to convince Dot on the subject as it +was Aggie. + +Aggie, meanwhile, was the busiest of the four sisters. There were so +many girls she had to say good-by to, and weep with, and promise +undying affection for, and agree to write letters to—at least three a +week!—and invite to come to Milton to visit them at the old Corner +House, when they once got settled there. + +“If all these girls come at once, Aggie,” said Ruth, mildly +admonitory, “I am afraid even Uncle Peter’s big house won’t hold +them.” + +“Then we’ll have an overflow meeting on the lawn,” retorted Aggie, +grinning. Then she clouded up the very next minute and the tears +flowed: “Oh, dear! I know I’ll never see any of them again, we’re +going away so far.” + +“Well! I wouldn’t boo-hoo over it,” Ruth said. “There will be girls in +Milton, too. And by next September when you go to school again, you +will have dozens of spoons.” + +“But not girls like these,” said Aggie, sorrowfully. And, actually, +she believed it! + +This is not much yet about the old Corner House that had stood since +the earliest remembrance of the oldest inhabitant of Milton, on the +corner of Main and Willow Streets. + +Milton was a county seat. Across the great, shaded parade ground from +the Stower mansion, was the red brick courthouse itself. On this side +of the parade there were nothing but residences, and none of them had +been so big and fine in their prime as the Corner House. + +In the first place there were three-quarters’ of an acre of ground +about the big, colonial mansion. It fronted Main Street, but set so +far back from that thoroughfare, that it seemed very retired. There +was a large, shady lawn in front, and old-fashioned flower beds, and +flowering shrubs. For some time past, the grounds had been neglected +and some of the flowers just grew wild. + +The house stood close to the side street, and its upper windows were +very blank looking. Mr. Peter Stower had lived on the two lower floors +only. “And that is all you will probably care to take charge of, Miss +Kenway,” said Mr. Howbridge, with a smile, when he first introduced +Ruth to the Corner House. + +Ruth had only a dim memory of the place from that one visit to it when +Uncle Peter chanced to be sick. She knew that he had lived here with +his single negro servant, and that the place had—even to her +infantile mind—seemed bare and lonely. + +Now, however, Ruth knew that she and her sisters would soon liven the +old house up. It was a delightful change from the city tenement. She +could not imagine anybody being lonely, or homesick, in the big old +house. + +Six great pillars supported the porch roof, which jutted out above the +second story windows. The big oak door, studded with strange little +carvings, was as heavy as that of a jail, or fortress! + +Some of the windows had wide sills, and others came right down to the +floor and opened onto the porch like two-leaved doors. + +There was a great main hall in the middle of the house. Out of this a +wide stairway led upward, branching at the first landing, one flight +going to the east and the other to the west chambers. There was a +gallery all around this hall on the second floor. + +The back of the Corner House was much less important in appearance +than the main building. Two wings had been built on, and the floors +were not on a level with the floors in the front of the house, so that +one had to go up and down funny, little brief flights of stairs to get +to the sleeping chambers. There were unexpected windows, with deep +seats under them, in dark corners, and important looking doors which +merely opened into narrow linen closets, while smaller doors gave +entrance upon long and heavily furnished rooms, which one would not +have really believed were in the house, to look at them from the +outside. + +“Oh-oo-ee!” cried Dot, when she first entered the big front door of +the Corner House, clutching Tess tightly by the hand. “We _could_ get +lost in this house.” + +Mr. Howbridge laughed. “If you stick close to this wise, big sister of +yours, little one,” said the lawyer, looking at Ruth, “you will not +get lost. And I guarantee no other harm will come to you.” + +The lawyer had learned to have great respect for the youthful head of +the Kenway household. Ruth was as excited as she could be about the +old house, and their new fortune, and all. She had a little color in +her cheeks, and her beautiful great brown eyes shone, and her lips +were parted. She was actually pretty! + +“What a great, great fortune it is for us,” she said. “I—I hope we’ll +all know how to enjoy it to the best advantage. I hope no harm will +come of it. I hope Aunt Sarah won’t be really offended, because Uncle +Peter did not leave it to her.” + +Aunt Sarah stalked up the main stairway without a word. She knew her +way about the Corner House. + +She took possession of one of the biggest and finest rooms in the +front part, on the second floor. When she had lived here as a young +woman, she had been obliged to sleep in one of the rear rooms which +was really meant for the occupancy of servants. + +Now she established herself in the room of her choice, had the +expressman bring her rocking-chair up to it, and settled with her +crocheting in the pleasantest window overlooking Main Street. There +might be, as Aggie said rather tartly, “bushels of work” to do to +straighten out the old house and make it homey; Aunt Sarah did not +propose to lift her hand to such domestic tasks. + +Occasionally she was in the habit of interfering in the very things +the girls did not need, or desire, help in, but in no other way did +Aunt Sarah show her interest in the family life of the Kenways. + +“And we’re all going to have our hands full, Ruth,” said Aggie, in +some disturbance of mind, “to keep this big place in trim. It isn’t +like a flat.” + +“I know,” admitted Ruth. “There’s a lot to do.” + +Even the older sister did not realize as yet what their change of +fortune meant to them. It seemed to them as though the fifty dollars +Mr. Howbridge had advanced should be made to last for a long, long +time. + +A hundred thousand dollars’ worth of property was only a series of +figures as yet in the understanding of Ruth, and Agnes, and Tess, and +Dot. Besides, there was the uncertainty about Uncle Peter’s will. + +The fortune, after all, might disappear from their grasp as suddenly +as it had been thrust into it. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +GETTING SETTLED + + +It was the time of the June fruit fall when the Kenway girls came to +the Old Corner House in Milton. A roistering wind shook the peach +trees in the side yard and at the back that first night, and at once +the trees pelted the grass and the flowers beneath their overladen +branches with the little, hard green pellets that would never now be +luscious fruit. + +“Don’t you s’pose they’re sorry as we are, because they won’t ever be +good for nothing?” queried Dot, standing on the back porch to view the +scattered measure of green fruit upon the ground. + +“Don’t worry about it, Dot. Those that are left on the trees will be +all the bigger and sweeter, Ruth says,” advised Tess. “You see, those +little green things would only have been in the way of the fruit up +above, growing. The trees had too many children to take care of, +anyway, and had to shake some off. Like the Old Woman Who Lived in a +Shoe.” + +“But I never _did_ feel that she was a real mother,” said Dot, not +altogether satisfied. “And it seems too bad that all those pretty, +little, velvety things couldn’t turn into peaches.” + +“Well, for my part,” said Tess, more briskly, “I don’t see how so many +of them managed to cling on, that old wind blew so! Didn’t you hear it +tearing at the shutters and squealing because it couldn’t get in, and +hooting down the chimney?” + +“I didn’t want to hear it,” confessed Dot. “It—it sounded worse than +Tommy Rooney hollering at you on the dark stairs.” + +The girls had slept very contentedly in the two great rooms which Ruth +chose at the back of the house for their bedrooms, and which opened +into each other and into one of the bathrooms. Aunt Sarah did not mind +being alone at the front. + +“I always intended havin’ this room when I got back into this house,” +she said, in one of her infrequent confidences to Ruth. “I wanted it +when I was a gal. It was a guest room. Peter said I shouldn’t have it. +But I’m back in it now, in spite of him—ain’t I?” + +Following Uncle Peter’s death, Mr. Howbridge had hired a woman to +clean and fix up the rooms in the Corner House, which had been +occupied in the old man’s lifetime. But there was plenty for Ruth and +Agnes to do during the first few days. + +Although they had no intention of using the parlors, there was quite +enough for the Kenway girls to do in caring for the big kitchen (in +which they ate, too), the dining-room, which they used as a general +sitting-room, the halls and stairs, and the three bedrooms. + +The doors of the other rooms on the two floors (and they seemed +innumerable) Ruth kept closed with the blinds at the windows drawn. + +“I don’t like so many shut doors,” Dot confided to Tess, as they were +dusting the carved balustrade in the big hall, and the big, hair-cloth +covered pieces of furniture which were set about the lower floor of +it. “You don’t know what is behind them—ready to pop out!” + +“Isn’t anything behind them,” said the practical Tess. “Don’t you be a +little ‘’fraid-cat,’ Dot.” + +Then a door rattled, and a latch clicked, and both girls drew suddenly +together, while their hearts throbbed tumultuously. + +“Of course, that was only the old wind,” whispered Tess, at last. + +“Ye-es. But the wind wasn’t ever like that at home in Bloomingsburg,” +stammered Dot. “I—I don’t believe I am going to like this big house, +Tess. I—I wish we were home in Essex Street.” + +She actually burst out crying and ran to Ruth, who chanced to open the +dining-room door. Agnes was with her, and the twelve year old demanded +of Tess: + +“What’s the matter with that child? What have you been doing to her?” + +“Why, Aggie! You know I wouldn’t do anything to her,” declared Tess, a +little hurt by the implied accusation. + +“Of course you haven’t, dear,” said Ruth, soothing the sobbing Dot. +“Tell us about it.” + +“Dot’s afraid—the house is so big—and the doors rattle,” said Tess. + +“Ugh! it _is_ kind of spooky,” muttered Aggie. + +“O-o-o!” gasped Tess. + +“Hush!” commanded Ruth, quickly. + +“What’s ‘spooky’?” demanded Dot, hearing a new word, and feeling that +its significance was important. + +“Never you mind, Baby,” said Aggie, kissing her. “It isn’t anything +that’s going to bite _you_.” + +“I tell you,” said Ruth, with decision, “you take her out into the +yard to play, Tess. Aggie and I will finish here. We mustn’t let her +get a dislike for this lovely old house. We’re the Corner House girls, +you know, and we mustn’t be afraid of our own home,” and she kissed +Dot again. + +“I—I guess I’ll like it by and by,” sobbed Dot, trying hard to +recover her composure. “But—but it’s so b-b-big and scary.” + +“Nothing at all to scare you here, dear,” said Ruth, briskly. “Now, +run along.” + +When the smaller girls had gone for their hats, Ruth said to Aggie: +“You know, mother always said Dot had too much imagination. She just +pictures things as so much worse, or so much better, than they really +are. Now, if she should really ever be frightened here, maybe she’d +never like the old house to live in at all.” + +“Oh, my!” said Aggie. “I hope that won’t happen. For I think this is +just the very finest house I ever saw. There is none as big in sight +on this side of the parade ground. We must be awfully rich, Ruth.” + +“Why—why I never thought of that,” said the elder sister, slowly. “I +don’t know whether we are actually rich, or not. Mr. Howbridge said +something about there being a lot of tenements and money, but, you +see, as long as Uncle Peter’s will can’t be found, maybe we can’t use +much of the money.” + +“We’ll have to work hard to keep this place clean,” sighed Aggie. + +“We haven’t anything else to do this summer, anyway,” said Ruth, +quickly. “And maybe things will be different by fall.” + +“Maybe we can find the will!” exclaimed Aggie, voicing a sudden +thought. + +“Oh!” + +“Wouldn’t that be great?” + +“I’ll ask Mr. Howbridge if we may look. I expect _he_ has looked in +all the likely places,” Ruth said, after a moment’s reflection. + +“Then we’ll look in the unlikely ones,” chuckled Aggie. “You know, you +read in story books about girls finding money in old stockings, and in +cracked teapots, and behind pictures in the parlor, and inside the +stuffing of old chairs, and——” + +“Goodness me!” exclaimed Ruth. “You are as imaginative as Dot +herself.” + +Meanwhile Tess and Dot had run out into the yard. They had already +made a tour of discovery about the neglected garden and the front +lawn, where the grass was crying-out for the mower. + +Ruth said she was going to have some late vegetables, and there was a +pretty good chicken house and wired run. If they could get a few hens, +the eggs would help out on the meat-bill. _That_ was the way Ruth +Kenway still looked at things! + +The picket fence about the front of the old Corner House property was +higher than the heads of the two younger girls. As they went slowly +along by the front fence, looking out upon Main Street, they saw many +people look curiously in at them. It doubtless seemed strange in the +eyes of Milton people to see children running about the yard of the +old Corner House, which for a generation had been practically shut up. + +There were other children, too, who looked in between the pickets, too +shy to speak, but likewise curious. One boy, rather bigger than Tess, +stuck a long pole between two of the pickets, and when Dot was not +looking, he turned the pole suddenly and confined her between it and +the fence. + +Dot squealed—although it did not hurt much, only startled her. Tess +flew to the rescue. + +“Don’t you do that!” she cried. “She’s my sister! I’ll just give it to +you——” + +But there came a much more vigorous rescuer from outside the fence. A +long legged, hatless colored girl, maybe a year or two older than +Tess, darted across Main Street from the other side. + +“Let go o’ dat! Let go o’ dat, you Sam Pinkney! You’s jes’ de baddes’ +boy in Milton! I done tell your mudder so on’y dis berry +mawnin’——Yes-sah!” + +She fell upon the mischievous Sam and boxed both of his ears soundly, +dragging the pole out from between the pickets as well, all in a +flash. She was as quick as could be. + +“Don’ you be ’fraid, you lil’ w’ite gals!” said this champion, putting +her brown, grinning face to an aperture between the pickets, her white +teeth and the whites of her eyes shining. + +“Dat no-’count Sam Pinkney is sho’ a nuisance in dis town—ya-as’m! My +mudder say so. ’F I see him a-tantalizin’ you-uns again, he’n’ me’ll +have de gre’tes’ bustification we ever _did_ hab—now, I tell yo’, +honeys.” + +She then burst into a wide-mouthed laugh that made Tess and Dot smile, +too. The brown girl added: + +“You-uns gwine to lib in dat ol’ Co’ner House?” + +“Yes,” said Tess. “Our Uncle Peter lived here.” + +“Sho’! I know erbout him. My gran’pappy lived yere, too,” said the +colored girl. “Ma name’s Alfredia Blossom. Ma mammy’s Petunia Blossom, +an’ she done washin’ for de w’ite folks yere abouts.” + +“We’re much obliged to you for chasing that bad boy away,” said Tess, +politely. “Won’t you come in?” + +“I gotter run back home, or mammy’ll wax me good,” grinned Alfredia. +“But I’s jes’ as much obleeged to yo’. On’y I wouldn’t go inter dat +old Co’ner House for no money—no, _Ma’am_!” + +“Why not?” asked Tess, as the colored girl prepared to depart. + +“It’s spooky—dat’s what,” declared Alfredia, and the next moment she +ran around the corner and disappeared up Willow Street toward one of +the poorer quarters of the town. + +“There!” gasped Dot, grabbing Tess by the hand. “What does _that_ +mean? She says this old Corner House is ‘spooky,’ too. What does +‘spooky’ mean, Tess?” + + + + +CHAPTER V + +GETTING ACQUAINTED + + +By the third day after their arrival in Milton, the Kenway sisters +were quite used to their new home; but not to their new condition. + +“It’s just delightful,” announced Agnes. “I’m going to love this old +house, Ruth. And to run right out of doors when one wants to—with an +apron on and without ‘fixing up’—nobody to see one——” + +The rear premises of the old Corner House were surrounded by a tight +fence and a high, straggling hedge. The garden and backyard made a +playground which delighted Tess and Dot. The latter seemed to have +gotten over her first awe of the big house and had forgotten to ask +further questions about the meaning of the mysterious word, “spooky.” + +Tess and Dot established their dolls and their belongings in a little +summer-house in the weed-grown garden, and played there contentedly +for hours. Ruth and Aggie were working very hard. It was as much as +Aunt Sarah would do if she made her own bed and brushed up her room. + +“When I lived at home before,” she said, grimly, “there were plenty of +servants in the house. That is, until Father Stower died and Peter +became the master.” + +Mr. Howbridge came on this day and brought a visitor which surprised +Ruth. + +“This is Mrs. McCall, Miss Kenway,” said the lawyer, who insisted upon +treating Ruth as quite a grown-up young lady. “Mrs. McCall is a +widowed lady for whom I have a great deal of respect,” continued the +gentleman, smiling. “And I believe you girls will get along nicely +with her.” + +“I—I am glad to meet Mrs. McCall,” said Ruth, giving the widow one of +her friendly smiles. Yet she was more than a little puzzled. + +“Mrs. McCall,” said Mr. Howbridge, “will take many household cares off +your shoulders, Miss Kenway. She is a perfectly good housekeeper, as I +know,” and he laughed, “for she has kept house for me. If you girls +undertook to take care of even a part of this huge house, you would +have no time for anything else.” + +“But——” began Ruth, in amazement, not to say panic. + +“You will find Mrs. McCall just the person whom you need here,” said +Mr. Howbridge, firmly. + +She was a strong looking, brisk woman, with a pleasant face, and Ruth +_did_ like her at once. But she was troubled. + +“I don’t see, Mr. Howbridge, how we can _afford_ anybody to help +us—just now,” Ruth said. “You see, we have so very little money. And +we already have borrowed from you, sir, more than we can easily +repay.” + +“Ha! you do not understand,” said the lawyer, quickly. “I see. You +think that the money I advanced before you left Bloomingsburg was a +loan?” + +“Oh, sir!” gasped Ruth. “We could not accept it as a gift. It would +not be right——” + +“I certainly do admire your independence, Ruth Kenway,” said the +gentleman, smiling. “But do not fear. I am not lending you money +without expecting to get full returns. It is an advance against your +uncle’s personal estate.” + +“But suppose his will is never found, sir?” cried Ruth. + +“I know of no other heirs of the late Mr. Stower. The court recognizes +you girls as the legatees in possession. There is not likely to be any +question of your rights at all. But we hope the will may be found and +thus a suit in Chancery be avoided.” + +“But—but is it _right_ for us to accept all this—and spend money, +and all that—when there is still this uncertainty about the will?” +demanded Ruth, desperately. + +“I certainly would not advise you to do anything that was wrong either +legally or morally,” said Mr. Howbridge, gravely. “Don’t you worry. I +shall pay the bills. You can draw on me for cash within reason.” + +“Oh, sir!” + +“You all probably need new clothing, and some little luxuries to which +you have not been always accustomed. I think I must arrange for each +of you girls to have a small monthly allowance. It is good for young +people to learn how to use money for themselves.” + +“Oh, sir!” gasped Ruth, again. + +“The possibility of some other person, or persons, putting in a claim +to Mr. Peter Stower’s estate, must be put out of your mind, Miss +Kenway,” pursued the kindly lawyer. “You have borne enough +responsibility for a young girl, already. Forget it, as the boys say. + +“Remember, you girls are very well off. You will be protected in your +rights by the court. Let Mrs. McCall take hold and do the work, with +such assistance as you girls may wish to give her.” + +It was amazing, but very delightful. “Why, Ruth-_ie_!” cried Agnes, +when they were alone, fairly dancing around her sister. “Do you +suppose we are really going to be _rich_?” + +To Ruth’s mind a very little more than enough for actual necessities +was wealth for the Kenways! She felt as though it were too good to be +true. To lay down the burden of responsibilities which she had carried +for two years——well! it was a heavenly thought! + +Milton was a beautiful old town, with well shaded streets, and green +lawns. People seemed to have plenty of leisure to chat and be +sociable; they did not rush by you without a look, or a word, as they +had in Bloomingsburg. + +“So, you’re the Corner House girls, are you? Do tell!” said one old +lady on Willow Street, who stopped the Kenway sisters the first time +they all trooped to Sunday School. + +“Let’s see; _you_ favor your father’s folks,” she added, pinching +Agnes’ plump cheek. “I remember Leonard Kenway very well indeed. He +broke a window for me once—years ago, when he was a boy. + +“I didn’t know who did it. But Lenny Kenway never could keep anything +to himself, and he came to me and owned up. Paid for it, too, by +helping saw my winter’s wood,” and the old lady laughed gently. + +“I’m Mrs. Adams. Come and see me, Corner House girls,” she concluded, +looking after them rather wistfully. “It’s been many a day since I had +young folks in my house.” + +Already Agnes had become acquainted with a few of the storekeepers, +for she had done the errands since their arrival in Milton. Now they +were welcomed by the friendly Sabbath School teachers and soon felt at +home. Agnes quickly fell in love with a bronze haired girl with brown +eyes, who sat next to her in class. This was Eva Larry, and Aggie +confided to Ruth that she was “just lovely.” + +They all, even the little girls, strolled about the paths of the +parade ground before returning home. This seemed to be the usual +Sunday afternoon promenade of Milton folk. Several people stopped the +Corner House girls (as they were already known) and spoke kindly to +them. + +Although Leonard Kenway and Julia Stower had moved away from Milton +immediately upon their marriage, and that had been eighteen years +before, many of the residents of Milton remembered the sisters’ +parents, and the Corner House girls were welcomed for those parents’ +sake. + +“We certainly shall come and call on you,” said the minister’s wife, +who was a lovely lady, Ruth thought. “It is a blessing to have young +folk about that gloomy old house.” + +“Oh! we don’t think it gloomy at all,” laughed Ruth. + +When the lady had gone on, the Larry girl said to Agnes: “I think +you’re awfully brave. _I_ wouldn’t live in the Old Corner House for +worlds.” + +“Why not?” asked Agnes, puzzled. “I guess you don’t know how nice it +is inside.” + +“I wouldn’t care if it was carpeted with velvet and you ate off of +solid gold dishes!” exclaimed Eva Larry, with emphasis. + +“Oh, Eva! you won’t even come to see us?” + +“Of course I shall. I like you. And I think you are awfully plucky to +live there——” + +“What for? What’s the matter with the house?” demanded Agnes, in +wonder. + +“Why, they say such things about it. You’ve heard them, of course?” + +“Surely you’re not afraid of it because old Uncle Peter died there?” + +“Oh, no! It began long before your Uncle Peter died,” said Eva, +lowering her voice. “Do you mean to say that Mr. Howbridge—nor +_anybody_—has not told you about it?” + +“Goodness me! No!” cried Agnes. “You give me the shivers.” + +“I should think you would shiver, you poor dear,” said Eva, clutching +at Aggie’s arm. “You oughtn’t to be allowed to go there to live. My +mother says so herself. She said she thought Mr. Howbridge ought to be +ashamed of himself——” + +“But what _for_?” cried the startled Agnes. “What’s the matter with +the house?” + +“Why, it’s haunted!” declared Eva, solemnly. “Didn’t you ever hear +about the Corner House Ghost?” + +“Oh, Eva!” murmured Agnes. “You are fooling me.” + +“No, Ma’am! I’m not.” + +“A—a ghost?” + +“Yes. Everybody knows about it. It’s been there for years.” + +“But—but we haven’t seen it.” + +“You wouldn’t likely see it—yet. Unless it was the other night when +the wind blew so hard. It comes only in a storm.” + +“What! the ghost?” + +“Yes. In a big storm it is always seen looking out of the windows.” + +“Goodness!” whispered Agnes. “What windows?” + +“In the garret. I believe that’s where it is always seen. And, of +course, it is seen from outside. When there is a big wind blowing, +people coming across the parade here, or walking on this side of +Willow Street, have looked up there and seen the ghost fluttering and +beckoning at the windows——” + +“How horrid!” gasped Agnes. “Oh, Eva! are you _sure_?” + +“I never saw it,” confessed the other. “But I know all about it. So +does my mother. She says it’s true.” + +“Mercy! And in the daytime?” + +“Sometimes at night. Of course, I suppose it can be seen at night +because it is phosphorescent. All ghosts are, aren’t they?” + +“I—I never saw one,” quavered Agnes. “And I don’t want to.” + +“Well, that’s all about it,” said Eva, with confidence. “And I +wouldn’t live in the house with a ghost for anything!” + +“But we’ve _got_ to,” wailed Agnes. “We haven’t any other place to +live.” + +“It’s dreadful,” sympathized the other girl. “I’ll ask my mother. If +you are dreadfully frightened about it, I’ll see if you can’t come and +stay with us.” + +This was very kind of Eva, Agnes thought. The story of the Corner +House Ghost troubled the twelve-year-old very much. She dared not say +anything before Tess and Dot about it, but she told the whole story to +Ruth that night, after they were in bed and supposed the little girls +to be asleep. + +“Why, Aggie,” said Ruth, calmly, “I don’t think there _are_ any +ghosts. It’s just foolish talk of foolish people.” + +“Eva says her mother _knows_ it’s true. People have seen it.” + +“Up in our garret?” + +“Ugh! In the garret of this old house—yes,” groaned Agnes. “Don’t +call it _our_ house. I guess I don’t like it much, after all.” + +“Why, Aggie! How ungrateful.” + +“I don’t care. For all of me, Uncle Peter could have kept his old +house, if he was going to leave a ghost in the garret.” + +“Hush! the children will hear you,” whispered Ruth. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +UNCLE RUFUS + + +That whispered conversation between Ruth and Agnes after they were +abed that first Sunday night of the Kenways’ occupancy of the Old +Corner House, bore unexpected fruit. Dot’s ears were sharp, and she +had not been asleep. + +From the room she and Tess occupied, opening out of the chamber in +which the bigger girls slept, Dot heard enough of the whispered talk +to get a fixed idea in her head. And when Dot _did_ get an idea, it +was hard to “shake it loose,” as Agnes declared. + +Mrs. McCall kept one eye on Tess and Dot as they played about the +overgrown garden, for she could see this easily from the kitchen +windows. Mrs. McCall had already made herself indispensable to the +family; even Aunt Sarah recognized her worth. + +Ruth and Agnes were dusting and making the beds on this Monday +morning, while Tess and Dot were setting their playhouse to rights. + +“I just heard her say so, so now, Tessie Kenway,” Dot was saying. “And +I know if it’s up there, it’s never had a thing to eat since we came +here to live.” + +“I don’t see how that could be,” said Tess, wonderingly. + +“It’s just _so_,” repeated the positive Dot. + +“But why doesn’t it make a noise?” + +“We-ell,” said the smaller girl, puzzled, too, “maybe we don’t hear it +’cause it’s too far up—there at the top of the house.” + +“I know,” said Tess, thoughtfully. “They eat tin cans, and rubber +boots, and any old thing. But I always thought that was because they +couldn’t find any other food. Like those castaway sailors Ruth read to +us about, who chewed their sealskin boots. Maybe such things stop the +gnawing feeling you have in your stomach when you’re hungry.” + +“I am going to pull some grass and take it up there,” announced the +stubborn Dot. “I am sure it would be glad of some grass.” + +“Maybe Ruth wouldn’t like us to,” objected Tess. + +“But it isn’t Ruthie’s!” cried Dot. “It must have belonged to Uncle +Peter.” + +“Why! that’s so,” agreed Tess. + +For once she was over-urged by Dot. Both girls pulled great sheafs of +grass. They held it before them in the skirts of their pinafores, and +started up the back stairs. + +Mrs. McCall chanced to be in the pantry and did not see them. They +would have reached the garret without Ruth or Agnes being the wiser +had not Dot, laboring upward, dropped a wisp of grass in the second +hall. + +“What’s all this?” demanded Agnes, coming upon the scattered grass. + +“What’s what?” asked Ruth, behind her. + +“And on the stairs!” exclaimed Agnes again. “Why, it’s grass, Ruth.” + +“Grass growing on the stairs?” demanded her older sister, wonderingly, +and running to see. + +“Of course not _growing_,” declared Agnes. “But who dropped it? +Somebody has gone up——” + +She started up the second flight, and Ruth after her. The trespassers +were already on the garret flight. There was a tight door at the top +of those stairs so no view could be obtained of the garret. + +“Well, I declare!” exclaimed Agnes. “What are you doing up here?” + +“And with grass,” said Ruth. “We’re all going to explore up there +together some day soon. But you needn’t make your beds up there,” and +she laughed. + +“Not going to make beds,” announced Tess, rather grumpily. + +“For pity’s sake, what _are_ you going to do?” asked Agnes. + +“We’re going to feed the goat,” said Dot, gravely. + +“Going to feed _what_?” shrieked Agnes. + +“The goat,” repeated Dot. + +“She says there’s one up here,” Tess exclaimed, sullenly. + +“A goat in the garret!” gasped Ruth. “How ridiculous. What put such an +idea into your heads?” + +“Aggie said so herself,” said Dot, her lip quivering. “I heard her +tell you so last night after we were all abed.” + +“A—goat—in—the—gar—ret!” murmured Agnes, in wonder. + +Ruth saw the meaning of it instantly. She pulled Aggie by the sleeve. + +“Be still,” she commanded, in a whisper. “I told you little pitchers +had big ears. She heard all that foolishness that Larry girl told +you.” Then to the younger girls she said: + +“We’ll go right up and see if we can find any goat there. But I am +sure Uncle Peter would not have kept a goat in his garret.” + +“But you and Aggie _said_ so,” declared Dot, much put out. + +“You misunderstood what we said. And you shouldn’t listen to hear what +other people say—that’s eavesdropping, and is not nice at all. Come.” + +Ruth mounted the stairs ahead and threw open the garret door. A great, +dimly lit, unfinished room was revealed, the entire size of the main +part of the mansion. Forests of clothing hung from the rafters. There +were huge trunks and chests, and all manner of odd pieces of +furniture. + +The small windows were curtained with spider’s lacework of the very +finest pattern. Dust lay thick upon everything. Agnes sneezed. + +“Goodness! what a place!” she said. + +“I don’t believe there is a goat here, Dot,” said Tess, becoming her +usual practical self. “He’d—he’d cough himself to death!” + +“You can take that grass down stairs,” said Ruth, smiling. But she +remained behind to whisper to Agnes: + +“You’ll have to have a care what you say before that young one, Ag. It +was ‘the _ghost_ in the garret’ she heard you speak about.” + +“Well,” admitted the plump sister, “I could see the whole of that +dusty old place. It doesn’t seem to me as though _any_ ghost would +care to live there. I guess that Eva Larry didn’t know what she was +talking about after all.” + +It was not, however, altogether funny. Ruth realized that, if Agnes +did not. + +“I really wish that girl had not told you that silly story,” said the +elder sister. + +“Well, if there should be a ghost——” + +“Oh, be still!” exclaimed Ruth. “You know there’s no such thing, +Aggie.” + +“I don’t care,” concluded Aggie. “The old house _is_ dreadfully +spooky. And that garret——” + +“Is a very dusty place,” finished Ruth, briskly, all her housewifely +instincts aroused. “Some day soon we’ll go up there and have a +thorough house-cleaning.” + +“Oh!” + +“We’ll drive out both the ghost and the goat,” laughed Ruth. “Why, +that will be a lovely place to play in on rainy days.” + +“Boo! it’s spooky,” repeated her sister. + +“It won’t be, after we clean it up.” + +“And Eva says that’s when the haunt appears—on stormy days.” + +“I declare! you’re a most exasperating child,” said Ruth, and that +shut Agnes’ lips pretty tight for the time being. She did not like to +be called a child. + +It was a day or two later that Mrs. McCall sent for Ruth to come to +the back door to see an old colored man who stood there, turning his +battered hat around and around in his hands, the sun shining on his +bald, brown skull. + +“Good mawnin’, Missie,” said he, humbly. “Is yo’ one o’ dese yere +relatifs of Mars’ Peter, what done come to lib yere in de ol’ Co’ner +House?” + +“Yes,” said Ruth, smiling. “I am Ruth Kenway.” + +“Well, Missie, I’s Unc’ Rufus,” said the old man, simply. + +“Uncle Rufus?” + +“Yes, Missie.” + +“Why! you used to work for our Uncle Peter?” + +“Endurin’ twenty-four years, Missie,” said the old man. + +“Come in, Uncle Rufus,” said Ruth, kindly. “I am glad to see you, I am +sure. It is nice of you to call.” + +“Yes, Missie; I ’lowed you’d be glad tuh see me. Das what I tol’ my +darter, Pechunia——” + +“Petunia?” + +“Ya-as. Pechunia Blossom. Das her name, Missie. I been stayin’ wid her +ever since dey turn me out o’ yere.” + +“Oh! I suppose you mean since Uncle Peter died?” + +“Ya-as, Missie,” said the old man, following her into the sitting +room, and staring around with rolling eyes. Then he chuckled, and +said: “Disher does seem lak’ home tuh me, Missie.” + +“I should think so, Uncle Rufus,” said Ruth. + +“I done stay here till das lawyer man done tol’ me I wouldn’t be +wanted no mo’,” said the colored man. “But I sho’ does feel dat de ol’ +Co’ner House cyan’t git erlong widout me no mo’ dan I kin git erlong +widout _it_. I feels los’, Missie, down dere to Pechunia Blossom’s.” + +“Aren’t you happy with your daughter, Uncle Rufus?” asked Ruth, +sympathetically. + +“Sho’ now! how you t’ink Unc’ Rufus gwine tuh be happy wid nottin’ to +do, an’ sech a raft o’ pickaninnies erbout? Glo-ree! I sho’ feels like +I was livin’ in a sawmill, wid er boiler fact’ry on one side an’ one +o’ dese yere stone-crushers on de oder.” + +“Why, that’s too bad, Uncle Rufus.” + +“Yo’ see, Missie,” pursued the old black man, sitting gingerly on the +edge of the chair Ruth had pointed out to him, “I done wo’k for Mars’ +Peter so long. I done ev’ryt’ing fo’ him. I done de sweepin’, an’ mak’ +he’s bed, an’ cook fo’ him, an’ wait on him han’ an’ foot—ya-as’m! + +“Ain’t nobody suit Mars’ Peter like ol’ Unc’ Rufus. He got so he +wouldn’t have no wimmen-folkses erbout. I ta’ de wash to Pechunia, an’ +bring hit back; an’ I markets fo’ him, an’ all dat. Oh, I’s spry fo’ +an ol’ feller, Missie. I kin wait on table quite propah—though ’twas +a long time since Mars’ Peter done have any comp’ny an’ dis dinin’ +room was fixed up for ’em. + +“I tak’ care ob de silvah, Missie, an’ de linen, an’ all. Right smart +of silvah Mars’ Peter hab, Missie. Yo’ sho’ needs Uncle Rufus yere, +Missie. I don’t see how yo’ git erlong widout him so long.” + +“Mercy me!” gasped Ruth, suddenly awakening to what the old man was +getting at. “You mean to say you want to come back here to _work_?” + +“Sho’ly! sho’ly!” agreed Uncle Rufus, nodding his head a great many +times, and with a wistful smile on his wrinkled old face that went +straight to Ruth’s heart. + +“But, Uncle Rufus! we don’t _need_ you, I’m afraid. We have Mrs. +McCall—and there are only four of us girls and Aunt Sarah.” + +“I ’member Mis’ Sarah very well, Missie,” said Uncle Rufus, nodding. +“She’ll sho’ly speak a good word fo’ Uncle Rufus, Missie. Yo’ ax her.” + +“But—Mr. Howbridge——” + +“Das lawyer man,” said Uncle Rufus, “he neber jes’ understood how it +was,” proposed the old colored man, gently. “He didn’t jes’ see dat +dis ol’ Co’ner House was my home so long, dat no oder place seems jes’ +_right_ tuh me.” + +“I understand,” said Ruth, softly, but much worried. + +“Disher w’ite lady yo’ got tuh he’p, _she’ll_ fin’ me mighty +handy—ya-as’m. I kin bring in de wood fo’ her, an’ git up de coal +f’om de cellar. I kin mak’ de paf’s neat. I kin mak’ yo’ a leetle bit +gyarden, Missie—’taint too late fo’ some vegertables. Yo’d oughter +have de lawn-grass cut.” + +The old man’s catalog of activities suggested the need of a much +younger worker, yet Ruth felt so sorry for him! She was timid about +taking such a responsibility upon herself. What would Mr. Howbridge +say? + +Meanwhile the old man was fumbling in an inner pocket. He brought +forth a battered wallet and from it drew a soiled, crumpled strip of +paper. + +“Mars’ Peter didn’t never intend to fo’get me—I know he didn’t,” said +Uncle Rufus, earnestly. “Disher paper he gib me, Missie, jes’ de day +befo’ he pass ter Glory. He was a kin’ marster, an’ he lean on Unc’ +Rufus a powerful lot. Jes’ yo’ read dis.” + +Ruth took the paper. Upon it, in a feeble scrawl, was written one +line, and that unsigned: + +“Take care of Uncle Rufus.” + + * * * * * + +“Who—whom did he tell you to give this to, Uncle Rufus?” asked the +troubled girl, at last. + +“He didn’t say, Missie. He warn’t speakin’ none by den,” said the old +man. “But I done kep’ it, sho’ly, ’tendin’ tuh sho’ it to his relatifs +what come yere to lib.” + +“And you did right, Uncle Rufus, to bring it to us,” said Ruth, coming +to a sudden decision. “I’ll see what can be done.” + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THEIR CIRCLE OF INTEREST WIDENS + + +Uncle Rufus was a tall, thin, brown negro, with a gently deprecating +air and a smile that suddenly changed his naturally sad features into +a most humorous cast without an instant’s notice. + +Ruth left him still sitting gingerly on the edge of the chair in the +dining-room, while she slowly went upstairs to Aunt Sarah. It was +seldom that the oldest Kenway girl confided in, or advised with, Aunt +Sarah, for the latter was mainly a most unsatisfactory confidante. +Sometimes you could talk to Aunt Sarah for an hour and she would not +say a word in return, or appear even to hear you! + +Ruth felt deeply about the old colored man. The twist of soiled paper +in her hand looked to Ruth like a direct command from the dead uncle +who had bequeathed her and her sisters this house and all that went +with it. + +Since her last interview with Mr. Howbridge, the fact that they were +so much better off than ever before, had become more real to Ruth. +They could not only live rather sumptuously, but they could do some +good to other people by the proper use of Uncle Peter’s money! + +Here was a case in point. Ruth did not know but what the old negro +would be more than a little useless about the Corner House; but it +would not cost much to keep him, and let him think he was of some +value to them. + +So she opened her heart to Aunt Sarah. And Aunt Sarah listened. +Indeed, there never was such a good audience as Aunt Sarah in this +world before! + +“Now, what do you think?” asked Ruth, breathlessly, when she had told +the story and shown the paper. “Is this Uncle Peter’s handwriting?” + +Aunt Sarah peered at the scrawl. “Looks like it,” she admitted. +“Pretty trembly. I wouldn’t doubt, on’y it seems too kind a thought +for Peter to have. He warn’t given to thinking of that old negro.” + +“I suppose Mr. Howbridge would know?” + +“That lawyer? Huh!” sniffed Aunt Sarah. “He might. But that wouldn’t +bring you anything. If he put the old man out once, he would again. No +heart nor soul in a lawyer. I always _did_ hate the whole tribe!” + +Aunt Sarah had taken a great dislike to Mr. Howbridge, because the +legal gentleman had brought the news of the girls’ legacy, instead of +telling her _she_ was the heir of Uncle Peter. On the days when there +chanced to be an east wind and Aunt Sarah felt a twinge of rheumatism, +she was inclined to rail against Fate for making her a dependent upon +the “gals’ charity,” as she called it. But she firmly clung to what +she called “her rights.” If Uncle Peter had not left his property to +her, he _should_ have done so—that is the way she looked at it. + +Such comment as Ruth could wring from Aunt Sarah seemed to bolster up +her own resolve to try Uncle Rufus as a retainer, and tell Mr. +Howbridge about it afterward. + +“We’ll skimp a little in some way, to make his wages,” thought Ruth, +her mind naturally dropping into the old groove of economizing. “I +don’t think Mr. Howbridge would be _very_ angry. And then—here is the +paper,” and she put the crumpled scrap that the old colored man had +given her, safely away. + +“Take care of Uncle Rufus.” + +She found Agnes and explained the situation to her. Aunt Sarah had +admitted Uncle Rufus was a “handy negro,” and Agnes at once became +enthusiastic over the possibility of having such a serving man. + +“Just think of him in a black tail-coat and white vest and spats, +waiting on table!” cried the twelve year old, whose mind was full of +romantic notions gathered from her miscellaneous reading. “This old +house just _needs_ a liveried negro servant shuffling about it—you +_know_ it does, Ruth!” + +“That’s what Uncle Rufus thinks, too,” said Ruth, smiling. What had +appealed to the older girl was Uncle Rufus’ wistful and pleading smile +as he stated his desire. She went back to the dining-room and said to +the old man: + +“I am afraid we cannot pay you much, Uncle Rufus, for I really do not +know just how much money Mr. Howbridge will allow us to spend on +living expenses. But if you wish to come——” + +“Glo-ree!” exclaimed the old man, rolling his eyes devoutedly. “Das +sho’ de good news for disher collud pusson. Nebber min’ payin’ me +wages, Missie. I jes’ wanter lib an’ die in de Ol’ Co’ner House, w’ich +same has been my home endurin’ twenty-four years—ya-as’m!” + +Mrs. McCall approved of his coming, when Ruth told her. As Uncle Rufus +said, he was “spry an’ pert,” and there were many little chores that +he could attend to which relieved both the housekeeper and the Kenway +girls themselves. + +That very afternoon Uncle Rufus reappeared, and in his wake two of +Petunia Blossom’s pickaninnies, tugging between them a bulging bag +which contained all the old man’s worldly possessions. + +One of these youngsters was the widely smiling Alfredia Blossom, and +Tess and Dot were glad to see her again, while little Jackson +Montgomery Simms Blossom wriggled, and grinned, and chuckled in a way +that assured the Corner House girls of his perfect friendliness. + +“Stan’ up—you!” commanded the important Alfredia, eyeing her younger +brother with scorn. “What you got eatin’ on you, Jackson Montgom’ry? +De _wiggles_? What yo’ s’pose mammy gwine ter say ter yo’ w’en she +years you ain’t got yo’ comp’ny manners on, w’en you go ter w’ite +folkses’ houses? Stan’ up—straight!” + +Jackson was bashful and was evidently a trial to his sister, when she +took him into “w’ite folks’ comp’ny.” Tess, however, rejoiced his +heart with a big piece of Mrs. McCall’s ginger-cake, and the little +girls left him munching, while they took Alfredia away to the summer +house in the garden to show her their dolls and playthings. + +Alfredia’s eyes grew big with wonder, for she had few toys of her own, +and confessed to the possession of “jes’ a ol’ rag tar-baby wot mammy +done mak’ out o’ a stockin’-heel.” + +Tess and Dot looked at each other dubiously when they heard this. +Their collection of babies suddenly looked to be fairly wicked! Here +was a girl who had not even a single “boughten” dollie. + +Dot gasped and seized the Alice-doll, hugging it close against her +breast; her action was involuntary, but it did not signal the smallest +Kenway girl’s selfishness. No, indeed! Of course, she could not have +given away _that_ possession, but there were others. + +She looked down the row of her china playmates—some small, some big, +some with pretty, fresh faces, and some rather battered and with the +color in their face “smootchy.” + +“Which could we give her, Dot?” whispered Tess, doubtfully. “There’s +my Mary-Jane——” + +The older sister proposed to give up one of her very best dolls; but +Mary-Jane was not pink and pretty. Dot stepped up sturdily and plucked +the very pinkest cheeked, and fluffiest haired doll out of her own +row. + +“Why, Dot! that’s Ethelinda!” cried Tess. Ethelinda had been found in +Dot’s stocking only the previous Christmas, and its purchase had cost +a deal of scrimping and planning on Ruth’s part. Dot did not know +that; she had a firm and unshakable belief in Santa Claus. + +“I think she’ll just _love_ Alf’edia,” declared Dot, boldly. “I’m sure +she will,” and she thrust the doll suddenly into the colored girl’s +open arms. “You’ll just take good care of her—won’t you, Alf’edia?” + +“My goodness!” ejaculated Alfredia. “You w’ite gals don’ mean me ter +_keep_ this be-you-ti-ful doll-baby? You don’t mean _that_?” + +“Of course we do,” said Tess, briskly, taking pattern after Dot. “And +here’s a spangled cloak that belonged to one of my dolls, but she +hasn’t worn it much—and a hat. See! they both fit Ethelinda +splendidly.” + +Alfredia was speechless for the moment. She hugged her new possessions +to her heart, and her eyes winked _hard_. Then she grinned. Nobody or +nothing could quench Alfredia’s grin. + +“I gotter git home—I gotter git home ter mammy,” she chattered, at +last. “I cyan’t nebber t’ank you w’ite chillen enough. Mammy, she done +gotter thank yo’ for me.” + +Uncle Rufus came out and stopped his grandchild, ere she could escape. +“Whar you done got dat w’ite doll-baby, Alfredia Blossom?” he asked, +threateningly. + +Dot and Tess were right there to explain. Uncle Rufus, however, would +not let his grandchild go until “Missie Ruth,” as he called the eldest +Kenway girl, had come to pronounce judgment. + +“Why, Dot!” she said, kissing her little sister, “I think it is very +nice of you to give Alfredia the doll—and Tess, too. Of course, Uncle +Rufus, she can take the doll home. It is hers to keep.” + +Alfredia, and “Jackson And-so-forth,” as Agnes nicknamed the colored +boy, ran off, delighted. The old man said to Ruth: + +“Lor’ bless you, Missie! I done _know_ you is Mars’ Peter’s relatifs; +but sho’ it don’t seem like you was re’l blood kin to de Stowers. Dey +ain’t nebber give nawthin’ erway—no Ma’am!” + +The Kenway girls had heard something about Uncle Peter’s closeness +before; he had been counted a miser by the neighbors. His peculiar way +of living alone, and seldom appearing outside of the door during the +last few years of his life, had encouraged such gossip regarding him. + +On Main Street, adjoining the premises of the Corner House, was a +pretty cottage in which there lived a family of children, too. These +neighbors did not attend the same church which the Kenways had gone to +on Sunday; therefore no opportunity had yet occurred for Tess and Dot +to become acquainted with the Creamer girls. There were three of them +of about the same ages as Agnes, Tess and Dot. + +“They’re such nice looking little girls,” confessed Tess. “I hope we +get to know them soon. We could have lots of fun playing house with +them, Dot, and going visiting, and all.” + +“Yes,” agreed Dot. “That one they call Mabel is so pretty! She’s got +hair like our Agnes—only it’s curly.” + +So, with the best intentions in the world, Tess and Dot were inclined +to gravitate toward the picket fence dividing the two yards, whenever +they saw the smaller Creamer girls out playing. + +Once Tess and Dot stood on their side of the fence, hand in hand, +watching the three sisters on the other side playing with their dolls +near the dividing line. The one with the curls looked up and saw them. +It quite shocked Dot when she saw this pretty little creature twist +her face into an ugly grimace. + +“I hope you see us!” she said, tartly, to Tess and Dot. “What you +staring at?” + +The Kenways were amazed—and silent. The other two Creamer children +laughed shrilly, and so encouraged the one who had spoken so rudely. + +“You can just go away from there and stare at somebody else!” said the +offended small person, tossing her head. “We don’t want you bothering +us.” + +“O-o-o!” gasped Dot. + +“We—we didn’t mean to stare,” stammered Tess. “We—we don’t know any +little girls in Milton yet. Don’t you want to come over and play with +us?” + +“No, we don’t!” declared the curly head. “We got chased out of that +old place enough, when we first came to live here, by that old crazy +man.” + +“She means Uncle Peter,” said Tess to Dot. + +“Was he crazy?” asked the wondering Dot. + +“Of course he wasn’t,” said Tess, sturdily. + +“Yes he was, too!” snapped the Creamer girl. “Everybody says so. You +can ask them. I expect you folks are all crazy. Anyway, we don’t want +to play with you, and you needn’t stand there and stare at us!” + +The smaller Kenway sisters went meekly away. Of course, if Agnes had +overheard the conversation, she would have given them as good as they +sent. But Tess and Dot were hurt to the quick. + +Dot said to Ruth, at supper: “Was our Uncle Peter crazy, Ruthie?” + +“Of course not,” said the bigger girl, wonderingly. “What put such a +silly idea into your little head?” + +The tale came out, then. Agnes bristled up, of course. + +“Let me catch them talking to you that way!” she cried. “_I’ll_ tell +them something!” + +“Oh, don’t let us quarrel with them,” urged Ruth, gently. “But you and +Tess, Dot, had better not put yourselves in their way again.” + +“Dey’s berry bad chillen—dem Creamers,” put in Uncle Rufus, who was +shuffling about the dining-room, serving. Although he was faultless in +his service, with the privilege of an old retainer when the family was +alone, he _would_ assist in the general conversation. + +In Agnes’ eyes, Uncle Rufus made a perfect picture. Out of his bulging +traveling bag had appeared just the sort of a costume that she +imagined he should wear—even to the gray spats! + +“It makes me feel just _rich_!” the twelve year old said to Ruth, with +a contented sigh. “And real silver he got out of the old chest, and +polished it up—and the cut glass!” + +They began to use the dining-room for meals after Uncle Rufus came. +The old man gently insisted upon it. + +“Sho’ly, Missie, you wants ter lib up ter de customs ob de ol’ Co’ner +House. Mars’ Peter drapped ’em all off latterly; but de time was w’en +dis was de center ob sassiety in Milton—ya-as’m!” + +“But goodness!” ejaculated Ruth, in some timidity, “we do not expect +to be in society _now_. We don’t know many people yet. And not a soul +has been inside the door to call upon us since we arrived.” + +However, their circle of acquaintance was steadily widening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE CAT THAT WENT BACK + + +Agnes put her hand upon it in the pantry and dropped a glass dish +ker-smash! She screamed so, that Ruth came running, opened the door, +and, as it scurried to escape into the dining-room, the oldest Kenway +girl dodged and struck her head with almost stunning force against the +doorframe. She “saw stars” for a few moments. + +“Oh! oh!” screamed Agnes. + +“Ow! ow!” cried Ruth. + +“Whatever is the matter with you girls?” demanded Mrs. McCall, +hurrying in from the front hall. + +She suddenly saw it, following the baseboard around the room in a +panic of fear, and Mrs. McCall gathered her skirts close about her +ankles and called Uncle Rufus. + +“He, he!” chuckled the black man, making one swoop for Mrs. Mouse and +catching her in a towel. “All disher combobberation over a leetle, +teeny, gray mouse. Glo-ree! s’pose hit had been a rat?” + +“The house is just over-run with mice,” complained Mrs. McCall. “And +traps seem to do no good. I always _would_ jump, if I saw a mouse. I +can’t help it.” + +“Me, too,” cried Agnes. “There’s something so sort of _creepy_ about +mice. Worse than spiders.” + +“Oh, dear!” moaned Ruth, holding the side of her head. “I wish you’d +find some way of getting rid of them, Uncle Rufus. I’m afraid of them, +too.” + +“Lor’ bress yo’ heart an’ soul, Missie! I done cotched this one fo’ +you-uns, an’ I wisht I could ketch ’em all. But Unc’ Rufus ain’t much +of a mouser—naw suh! What you-alls wants is a cat.” + +“We ought to have a good cat—that’s a fact,” admitted Mrs. McCall. + +“I like cats,” said Dot, who had come in to see what the excitement +was all about. “There’s one runs along our back fence. Do you ’spect +we could coax her to come in here and hunt mouses? Let’s show her this +one Uncle Rufus caught, and maybe she’ll follow us in,” added the +hopeful little girl. + +Although this plan for securing a cat did not meet with the family’s +approval, Agnes was reminded of the cat problem that very afternoon, +when she had occasion to go to Mr. Stetson’s grocery store, where the +family traded. + +She liked Myra Stetson, the groceryman’s daughter, almost as well as +she did Eva Larry. And Myra had nothing to say about the “haunt” which +was supposed to pester the old Corner House. + +Myra helped about the store, after school hours and on Saturdays. When +Agnes entered this day, Mr. Stetson was scolding. + +“I declare for’t!” he grumbled. “There’s no room to step around this +store for the cats. Myra! I can’t stand so many cats—they’re under +foot all the time. You’ll have to get rid of some of your pets. It’s +making me poor to feed them all, in the first place!” + +“Oh, father!” cried Myra. “They keep away the mice, you know.” + +“Yes! Sure! They keep away the mice, because there’s so many cats and +kittens here, the mice couldn’t crowd in. I tell you I can’t stand +it—and there’s that old Sandy-face with four kittens in the basket +behind the flour barrels in the back room. Those kittens have got +their eyes open. Soon you can’t catch them at all. I tell you, Myra, +you’ve got to get rid of them.” + +“Sandy-face and all?” wailed Myra, aghast. + +“Yes,” declared her father. “That’ll be five of ’em gone in a bunch. +Then maybe we can at least _count_ those that are left.” + +“Oh, Myra!” cried Agnes. “Give them to us.” + +“What?” asked the store-keeper’s girl. “Not the whole five?” + +“Yes,” agreed Agnes, recklessly. “Mrs. McCall says we are over-run +with mice, and I expect we could feed more than five cats for a long +time on the mouse supply of the old Corner House.” + +“Goodness! Old Sandy-face is a real nice mother cat——” + +“Let’s see her,” proposed Agnes, and followed Myra out into the +store-room of the grocery. + +In a broken hand-basket in which some old clothes had been dropped, +Sandy-face had made her children’s cradle. They looked like four +spotted, black balls. The old cat herself was with them, and she +stretched and yawned, and looked up at the two girls with perfect +trust in her speckled countenance. + +Her face looked as though salt and pepper, or sand, had been sprinkled +upon it. Her body was marked with faint stripes of black and gray, +which proved her part “tiger” origin. She was “double-toed” on her +front feet, and her paws were big, soft cushions that could unsheath +dangerous claws in an instant. + +“She ought to be a good mouser,” said Agnes, reflectively. It _did_ +look like a big contract to cart five cats home at once! + +“But I wouldn’t feel right to separate the family—especially when the +kittens are so young,” Myra said. “If your folks will let you take +them—well! it would be nice,” she added, for she was a born lover of +cats and could not think, without positive pain, of having any of the +cunning kittens cut short in their feline careers. + +“Oh, Ruth will be glad,” said Agnes, with assurance. “So will Mrs. +McCall. We need cats—we just actually _need_ them, Myra.” + +“But how will you get them home?” asked the other girl, more practical +than the impulsive Agnes. + +“Goodness! I hadn’t thought of that,” confessed Agnes. + +“You see, cats are funny creatures,” Myra declared. “Sometimes they +find their way home again, even if they are carried miles and miles +away.” + +“But if I take the kittens, too—wouldn’t she stay with her own +kittens?” + +“Well—p’r’aps. But the thing _is_, how are you going to carry them +all?” + +“Say! they’re all in this old basket,” said Agnes. “Can’t I carry them +just as they are?” + +She picked the basket up. Old Sandy-face just “mewed” a little, but +did not offer to jump out. + +“Oh!” gasped Agnes. “They’re heavy.” + +“You couldn’t carry them all that way. And if Sandy saw a dog——” + +“Maybe I’ll have to blindfold her?” suggested Agnes. + +“Put her in a bag!” cried Myra. + +“But that seems so cruel!” + +“I know. She might smother,” admitted Myra. + +“Goodness me!” said Agnes, briskly, “if we’re going to have a cat, I +don’t want one that will always be afraid of me because I popped her +into a bag. Besides, a cat is a dignified creature, and doing a thing +like that would hurt her feelings. Don’t you think so?” + +“I guess Sandy-face wouldn’t like it,” agreed Myra, laughing at Agnes’ +serious speech and manner. + +“I tell you what,” the second-oldest Kenway girl said. “I’ll run home +with the groceries your father has put up for me, and get the kids to +come and help. They can certainly carry the kittens, while I take +Sandy.” + +“Of course,” agreed the relieved Myra. She saw a chance of disposing +of the entire family without hurting her own, or the cats’ feelings, +and she was much pleased. + +As for the impulsive Agnes, when she made up her mind to do a thing, +she never thought of asking advice. She reached home with the +groceries and put them into the hands of Uncle Rufus at the back door. +Then she called Tess and Dot from their play in the garden. + +“Are your frocks clean, girls?” she asked them, hurriedly. “I want you +to go to Mr. Stetson’s store with me.” + +“What for, Aggie?” asked Dot, but quite ready to go. By Agnes’ +appearance it was easy to guess that there was something exciting +afoot. + +“Shall I run ask Ruth?” Tess inquired, more thoughtfully. + +Uncle Rufus was watching them from the porch. Agnes waved her hand to +the black man, as she ushered the two smaller girls out of the yard +onto Willow Street. + +“No,” she said to Tess. “Uncle Rufus sees us, and he’ll explain to +Ruth.” At the moment, she did not remember that Uncle Rufus knew no +more about their destination than Ruth herself. + +The smaller girls were eager to learn the particulars of the affair as +Agnes hurried them along. But the bigger girl refused to explain, +until they were in the grocer’s store-room. + +“Now! what do you think of them?” she demanded. + +Tess and Dot were delighted with the kittens and Sandy-face. When they +learned that all four kittens and the mother cat were to be their very +own for the taking away, they could scarcely keep from dancing up and +down. + +Oh, yes! Tess and Dot were sure they could carry the basket of +kittens. “But won’t that big cat scratch you, when you undertake to +carry her, Aggie?” asked Tess. + +“I won’t let her!” declared Agnes. “Now you take the basket right up +when I lift out Sandy.” + +“I—I’m afraid she’ll hurt you,” said Dot. + +“She’s real kind!” Agnes lifted out the mother-cat. Sandy made no +complaint, but kept her eyes fixed upon the kittens. She was used to +being handled by Myra. So she quickly snuggled down into Agnes’ arms, +purring contentedly. The two smaller girls lifted the basket of +kittens between them. + +“Oh, this is nice,” said Tess, delightedly. “We can carry them just as +easy! Can’t we, Dot?” + +“Then go right along. We’ll go out of that side door there, so as not +to take them through the store,” instructed Agnes. + +Sandy made no trouble at all. Agnes was careful to walk so that the +big cat could look right down into the basket where her four kittens +squirmed and occasionally squealed their objections to this sort of a +“moving day.” + +The sun was warm and the little things could not be cold, but they +missed the warmth of their mother’s body, and her fur coat to snuggle +up against! When they squealed, Sandy-face evinced some disturbance of +mind, but Agnes managed to quiet her, until they reached Mrs. Adams’ +front gate. + +Mrs. Adams was the old lady who had told the Kenways about their +father breaking one of her windows when he was a boy. She had shown +much interest in the Corner House girls. Now she was out on her front +porch and saw them coming along Willow Street. + +“Whatever have you girls been up to?” she demanded, pleasantly enough, +but evincing much curiosity. + +“Why, Mrs. Adams,” said Agnes, eagerly. “Don’t you see? We’ve adopted +a family.” + +“Humph! A family? Not those young’uns of Petunia Blossom? I see Uncle +Rufus back at the old Corner House, and I expect the whole family will +be there next.” + +“Why,” said Agnes, somewhat surprised by this speech, “these are only +cats.” + +“Cats?” + +“Yes’m. Cats. That is, _a_ cat and four kittens.” + +Mrs. Adams started down the path to see. The girls stopped before her +gate. At that moment there was a whoop, a scrambling in the road, and +a boy and a bulldog appeared from around the nearest corner. + +With unerring instinct the bulldog, true to his nature, came charging +for the cat he saw in Agnes’ arms. + +Poor old Sandy-face came to life in a hurry. From a condition of calm +repose, she leaped in a second of time to wild and vociferous +activity. Matters were on a war basis instantly. + +She uttered a single “Yow!” and leaped straight out of Agnes’ arms to +the bole of a maple tree standing just inside Mrs. Adams’ fence. She +forgot her kittens and everything else, and scrambled up the tree for +dear life, while the bulldog, tongue hanging out, and his little red +eyes all alight with excitement, leaped against the fence as though +he, too, would scramble over it and up the tree. + +[Illustration: She forgot her kittens and everything else, and scrambled +up the tree for dear life.] + +“Oh! that horrid dog! Take him away, you Sammy Pinkney!” cried Mrs. +Adams. “Come into the yard, girls!” + +The gate was open, and the little girls ran in with the basket of +kittens. Each kitten, in spite of its youth, was standing stiff-legged +in the basket, its tiny back arched, its fur on end, and was +“spitting” with all its might. + +The mother cat had forgotten her children in this moment of panic. The +dancing bulldog outside the fence quite crazed her. She ran out on the +first limb of the tree, and leaped from it into the next tree. There +was a long row of maples here and the frightened Sandy-face went from +one to the other like a squirrel. + +“She’s running away! she’s running away!” cried Agnes. + +“Where did you get that cat and those kittens, child?” demanded Mrs. +Adams. + +“At Mr. Stetson’s store,” said Agnes, sadly, as the old cat +disappeared. + +“She’s going back,” said the lady firmly. “That’s where she is going. +A scared cat always will make for home, if she can. And now! what +under the canopy are you going to do with that mess of +kittens—without a cat to mother them?” + +Agnes was stricken dumb for the moment. Tess and Dot were all but in +tears. The situation was very complicated indeed, even if the boy had +urged his dog away from the gate. + +The four little kittens presented a problem to the Corner House girls +that was too much for even the ready Agnes to solve. Here were the +kittens. The cat had gone back. Agnes had a long scratch on her +arm—and it smarted. Tess and Dot were on the verge of tears, while +the kittens began to mew and refused to be pacified. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE VANISHING KITTENS + + +“What you’ll do with those little tykes, I don’t see,” said Mrs. +Adams, who was not much of a comforter, although kind-hearted. “You’d +better take them back to Mr. Stetson, Aggie.” + +“No-o. I don’t think he’d like that,” said Agnes. “He told Myra to get +rid of them and I promised to take them away and keep them.” + +“But that old cat’s gone back,” decided the lady. + +“I s’pect you’ll have to go after her again, Aggie,” said Tess. + +“But I won’t carry her—loose—in my arms,” declared the bigger girl, +with emphasis. “See what she did to me,” and she displayed the long, +inflamed scratch again. + +“Put her in a bag, child,” advised Mrs. Adams. “You little ones come +around here to the back stoop and we’ll try to make the kittens drink +warm milk. They’re kind of small, but maybe they’re hungry enough to +put their tongues into the dish.” + +She bustled away with Tess and Dot and the basket of kittens, while +Agnes started back along the street toward the grocery store. She had +rather lost interest in Sandy-face and her family. + +At once Tess and Dot were strongly taken with the possibility of +teaching the kittens to drink. Mrs. Adams warmed the milk, poured it +into a saucer, and set it down on the top step. Each girl grabbed a +kitten and the good lady took the other two. + +They thrust the noses of the kittens toward the milk, and immediately +the little things backed away, and made great objections to their +introduction to this new method of feeding. + +The little black one, with the white nose and the spot of white over +one eye, got some milk on its whiskers, and immediately sneezed. + +“My goodness me!” exclaimed Dot, worriedly, “I believe this kitten’s +catching cold. Suppose it has a real _hard_ cold before its mother +comes back? What shall we do about it?” + +This set Mrs. Adams to laughing so hard that she could scarcely hold +her kittens. But she dipped their noses right into the milk, and after +they had coughed and sputtered a little, they began to lick their +chops and found the warm milk much to their taste. + +Only, they did not seem to know how to get at it. They nosed around +the edge of the saucer in the most ridiculous way, getting just a wee +mite. They found it very good, no doubt, but were unable to discover +just where the milk was. + +“Did you ever see such particular things?” asked the impatient Mrs. +Adams. She suddenly pushed the black and white kitten (the girls had +already called it “Spotty”) right up against the dish. Now, no +cat—not even a very tiny cat like this one—cares to be pushed, and +to save itself from such indignity, Spotty put out one paw +and—splash!—it went right into the dish. + +Oh! how he shook the wet paw and backed away. Cats do not like to get +their feet wet. Spotty began licking the wet paw to dry it and right +then and there he discovered something! + +The milk on it tasted very good. He sat up in the funniest way and +licked it all off, and Dot danced around, delighted to see him. + +A little of the milk had been spilled on the step, and one of the +speckled kittens found this, and began to lap it up with a tiny pink +tongue. With a little urging the other two kittens managed to get some +milk, too, but Spotty was the brightest—at least, the girls thought +so. + +After he had licked his paw dry, he ventured over to the saucer again, +smelled around the edge, and then deliberately dipped in his paw and +proceeded to lap it dry once more. + +“Isn’t he the cunningest little thing that ever was?” demanded Tess, +clapping her hands. Dot was so greatly moved that she had to sit down +and just watch the black and white kitten. She could not speak for +happiness, at first, but when she _did_ speak, she said: + +“Isn’t it nice that there’s such things as kittens in the world? I +don’t s’pose they are useful at all till they’re _cats_, but they are +awfully pretty!” + +“Isn’t she the little, old-fashioned thing?” murmured Mrs. Adams. + +Tess and Dot were very much at home and the kittens were curled up in +the basket again in apparent contentment, when Agnes returned. + +She had Sandy-face in a sack, and it was just about all Agnes could do +to carry the cat without getting scratched again. For Sandy’s claws +came through the flimsy bag, and she knew not friend from foe in her +present predicament. + +“I declare! I had no idea cats had so little sense,” Agnes sighed, +sitting down, quite heated. “Wouldn’t you think she’d be _glad_ to be +taken to a good home—and with her kittens, too?” + +“Maybe _we_ wouldn’t have any more sense if we were being carried in a +sack,” said Tess, thoughtfully. + +“Well!” exclaimed Aggie. “She knew enough to go back to Mr. Stetson’s +store, that’s sure. He had to catch her for me, for Myra was out. He +says we’ll have to watch her for a few days, but I don’t believe she’d +have left her kittens if that bad Sam Pinkney hadn’t come along with +his dog—do you, Mrs. Adams?” + +“No, deary. I think she’ll stay with the kittens all right,” said the +old lady, comfortingly. + +“Well, let’s go on home, girls,” said Agnes, rising from the step. +“We’ve bothered Mrs. Adams long enough.” + +“We’ve had an awfully nice time here,” said Tess, smiling at the old +lady, and not forgetful of her manners. + +“I’m glad you came, dearies. Come again. I’m going to have a little +party here for you Corner House girls, some day, if you’ll come to +it.” + +“Oh, I just _love_ parties,” declared Dot, her eyes shining. “If Ruth +will let us we’ll come—won’t we, Tess?” + +“Certainly,” agreed Tess. + +“Of course we’ll come, Mrs. Adams,” cried Agnes, as she led the way +with the me-owing cat in the sack, while the two smaller girls carried +the sleeping kittens with care. + +They reached home without any further adventure. Ruth came running +from Aunt Sarah’s room to see the kittens. When they let Sandy-face +out of the bag in the dining-room, she scurried under the sofa and +refused to be coaxed forth. + +The children insisted upon taking the kittens up to show Aunt Sarah, +and it was determined to keep the old cat in the dining-room till +evening, at any rate; so the basket was set down by the sofa. Each +girl finally bore a kitten up to Aunt Sarah’s room. + +Agnes had chosen Spotty for her very own—and the others said she +ought to have her choice, seeing that she had been through so much +trouble to get the old mother cat and her family—and received a +scratch on her arm, too! + +They remained long enough in Auntie’s room to choose names for all the +other three kittens. Ruth’s was named Popocatepetl—of course, “Petl,” +for short (pronounced like “petal”) is pretty for a kitten—“reminds +one of a flower, I guess,” said Tess. + +Tess herself chose for her particular pet the good old fashioned name +of “Almira.” “You see,” she said, “it’s sort of in memory of Miss +Almira Briggs who was my teacher back in Bloomingsburg, and Myra +Stetson, who gave us the cats.” + +Dot wavered a long time between “Fairy” and “Elf” as a name for the +fourth kitten, and finally she decided on “Bungle”! That was because +the little, staggery thing, when put down on the floor, tried to chase +Aunt Sarah’s ball of yarn and bungled the matter in a most ridiculous +fashion. + +So, Spotty, Petl, Almira and Bungle, the kittens became. Aunt Sarah +had a soft spot in her heart for cats—what maiden lady has not? She +approved of them, and the children told her their whole adventure with +Sandy-face and her family. + +“Butter her feet,” was the old lady’s single audible comment upon +their story, but the girls did not know what for, nor just what Aunt +Sarah meant. They seldom ventured to ask her to explain her cryptic +sayings, so they carried the kittens downstairs with puzzled minds. + +“What do you s’pose she meant, Ruth?” demanded Agnes. “‘Butter her +feet,’ indeed. Why, the old cat would get grease all over everything.” + +So they merely put the kittens back into the basket, and left the +dining-room to Sandy-face and her family, until it was time for Uncle +Rufus to set the table for evening dinner. + +“Das old cat sho’ done feel ter home now,” said the black man, +chuckling. “She done got inter dat basket wid dem kittens an’ dey is +havin’ a reg’lar love feast wid each odder, dey is so glad ter be +united once mo’. Mebbe dat ol’ speckled cat kin clean out de mice.” + +Of course, Uncle Rufus was not really a “black” man, save that he was +of pure African blood. He was a brown man—a rich, chocolate color. +But his daughter, Petunia Blossom, when she came to get the +wash-clothes, certainly proved to be as black—and almost as shiny—as +the kitchen range! + +“How come she is so dreful _brack_, I sho’ dunno,” groaned Uncle +Rufus. “Her mudder was a well-favored brown lady—not a mite darker +dan me—an’ as I ’member my pappy an’ mammy, ’way back dere befo’ de +wah, wasn’t none o’ dese common _brack_ negras—no, Ma’am! + +“But Pechunia, she done harked back to some ol’ antsister” (he meant +“ancestor”) “wot must ha’ been marked mighty permiscuous wid de +tarbrush. Does jes’ look lak’ yo’ could rub de soot off Pechunia wid +yo’ finger!” + +Petunia was enormously fat, too, but she was a pretty colored woman, +without Uncle Rufus’ broad, flat features. And she had a great number +of bright and cunning pickaninnies. + +“How many I got in to-tal, Missie?” she repeated Ruth’s question. +“Lor’ bress yo’! Sometimes I scurce remember dem all. Dere’s two +merried an’ moved out o’ town. Den dere’s two mo’ wokin’; das four, +ain’t it? Den de good Lor’ sen’ me twins twicet—das mak’ eight, ef my +’rithmetickle am cor-rect. An’ dere’s Alfredia, an’ Jackson, and +Burne-Jones Whis’ler Blossom (he done been named by Mis’ Holcomb, de +artis’ lady, wot I wok fo’) an’ de baby, an’ Louisa Annette, an’ +an’—— Bress de Lor’, Missie, I ’spect das ’bout all.” + +Ruth had lost count and could only laugh over the names foistered upon +the helpless brown babies. Uncle Rufus “snorted” over the catalog of +his daughter’s progeny. + +“Huh! dem names don’t mean nuthin’, an’ so I tell her,” he grunted. +“But yo’ cyan’t put sense in de head ob a flighty negra-woman—no, +Ma’am! She called dem by sech _circusy_ names ’cause dey _sounds_ +pretty. Sound an’ no sense! Huh!” + +Just now, however, the Corner House girls were more deeply interested +in the names of the four kittens, and in keeping them straight (for +three were marked almost exactly alike), than they were in the names +which had been forced upon the helpless family of Petunia Blossom. + +Having already had one lesson in lapping milk from a saucer, the +kittens were made to go through the training again after dinner, under +the ministrations of Tess and Dot. + +Sandy-face, who seemed to have become fairly contented by this time, +sat by and watched her offspring coughing and sputtering over the warm +milk and finally, deciding that they had had enough, came and drank it +all up herself. + +Dot was rather inclined to think that this was “piggish” on Sandy’s +part. + +“I don’t think you’re a bit polite, Sandy,” she said, gravely, to the +mother cat while the latter calmly washed her face. “You had your +dinner, you know, before Mrs. McCall brought in the milk.” + +They all trooped out to see Uncle Rufus establish Sandy and her family +for the night in the woodshed. The cat seemed to fancy the nest in the +old basket, so they did not change it, and when they left the family, +shutting the woodshed door tightly, they supposed Sandy and her +children would be safe for the night. + +In the morning, however, a surprise awaited Tess and Dot, when they +ran out to the shed to see how the kittens were. Sandy-face was +sleeping soundly in the basket and Spotty and Petl were crawling all +over her. Almira and Bungle had disappeared! + +The two smallest girls searched all about the shed, and then a wail +arose from Dot, when she was assured that her own, and Tess’ kitten, +were really not to be found. Dot’s voice brought the whole family, +including Uncle Rufus, to the shed door. + +“Al-mi-ra and Bungle’s lost-ed!” sobbed Dot. “Somebody came and took +them, while poor Sandy was asleep. See!” + +It was true. Not a trace of the missing kittens could be found. The +shed door had not been opened by any of the family before Tess and Dot +arrived. There was only a small window, high up in the end wall of the +shed, open a very little way for ventilation. + +How could the kittens have gotten away without human help? It did look +as though Almira and Bungle had been stolen. At least, they had +vanished, and even Dot did not believe that there were kitten fairies +who could bewitch Sandy’s children and spirit them away! + +Sandy-face herself seemed the least disturbed of anybody over the lost +kittens. Uncle Rufus declared that “das cat sho’ nuff cyan’t count. +She done t’ink she’s sho’ got all de kittens she ever had.” + +“I do believe it was that Sam Pinkney boy,” whispered Tess, to Agnes. +“He’s just as bad as Tommy Rooney was—every bit!” + +“But how would he know where we had housed the kittens for the night?” +demanded Agnes. “I don’t see why anybody should want to take two +little, teeny kittens from their mother.” + +Tess and Dot watched closely the remainder of Sandy’s family. They +believed that the mother cat _did_ discover at last that she was +“short” two kittens, for she did not seem satisfied with her home in +the woodshed. Twice they caught her with a kitten in her mouth, +outside the woodshed door, which had been left open. + +“Now, Sandy,” said Dot, seriously, “you mustn’t try to move Spotty and +Petl. First thing you know you’ll lose them _all_; then you won’t have +any kittens. And I don’t believe they like being carried by the backs +of their necks—I don’t. For they just _squall_!” + +Sandy seemed offended by the girls’ interference, and she went off by +herself and remained out of sight for half a day. Tess and Dot began +to be worried about the mother cat before Sandy turned up again and +snuggled the two remaining kittens in the basket, once more. + +That second evening they shut the cat and her two kittens into the +shed just as carefully as before. In the morning only Spotty was left! +The speckled little Popocatepetl had vanished, too! + + + + +CHAPTER X + +RUTH SEES SOMETHING + + +The mystery of the vanishing kittens cast a cloud of gloom over the +minds of the younger Corner House girls. Besides, it had rained in the +night and was still raining after breakfast. It was a dull, gloomy +day. + +“Just a nice day for us to start cleaning the garret,” Ruth said, +trying to put cheer into the hearts of her sisters. “Only Mr. +Howbridge, who has been away, has written me to come to his office +this forenoon. He wants to arrange about several matters, he says. +I’ll have to go and we’ll postpone the garret rummage till I get +back.” + +“Poor Sandy’s all wet and muddy,” said Dot, who could not get her +troubled mind off the cat family. “Just as though _she’d_ been out in +the rain. But I don’t see how that could be. She’s washing up now by +the kitchen stove.” + +They had brought the mother cat and Spotty into the kitchen for +safety. Uncle Rufus shook his head over the mysterious disappearance +of Petl, Almira and Bungle, too; whispering to Mrs. McCall: + +“Do look for sho’ as though rats had got dem kittins. Dunno what +else.” + +“For goodness sake, don’t tell me there are rats here, Uncle Rufus!” +exclaimed the widow, anxiously. “I couldn’t sleep in my bed nights.” + +“Dunno whar you’d sleep safer, Mis’ McCall, ter git away from ’em,” +chuckled the old colored man. “But I exemplifies de fac’ dat I ain’t +seed none ob dere tracks.” + +Occasionally Uncle Rufus “threw in a word” in conversation which +sounded euphonious in his own ears, but had little to do with the real +meaning of his speech. + +Nobody whispered “rats” to the little girls; and Tess and Dot scarcely +let Sandy and the remaining kitten out of their sight. It was a windy, +storm-stricken day, and they took the mother cat and Spotty up to Aunt +Sarah’s room to play. + +Ruth put on her rain-coat, seized an umbrella, and ventured forth. She +knew she could find her way to Mr. Howbridge’s office, down town, +although she had never visited it before. + +The lawyer was very glad to see the oldest Corner House girl, and told +her so. “I am hearing some good reports of you, Miss Kenway,” he said, +smiling at her in his odd way, and with his keen eyes looking sharply +over the high bridge of his nose, as though he were gazing deep into +Ruth’s mind. + +“Some of these Milton people think that you girls need closer watching +than you are getting. So they say. What do you think? Do you feel the +need of a sterner guardian?” + +“I think you are a very nice guardian,” admitted Ruth, shyly. “And we +are having awfully nice times up there at the old Corner House, Mr. +Howbridge. I hope we are not spending too much money?” + +He put on his eyeglasses again and scanned the totals of the store +bills and other memoranda she had brought him. He shook his head and +smiled again: + +“I believe you are a born housekeeper. Of course, I knew that Mrs. +McCall wouldn’t let you go far wrong. But I see no evidence of a lack +of economy on your part. And now, we must see about your spending some +more money, Miss Kenway.” + +“Oh! it seems like a lot to me,” said Ruth, faintly. “And—and I must +tell you something perhaps you won’t like. We—we have an addition to +the family.” + +“How’s that?” he asked, in surprise. + +“We—we have Uncle Rufus,” explained Ruth. + +“What! has that old darkey come bothering you?” + +“Oh! he isn’t a bother. Not at all. I thought he was too old to do +much, but he is _so_ handy—and he finds so many little things to do. +And then——Why, Mr. Howbridge! it’s just like home to him.” + +“Ha! Undoubtedly. And so he told you? Worked on your feelings? You are +going to have the whole family on you, next. You will have more wages +to pay out than the estate will stand.” + +“Dear me, sir!” cried Ruth. “Don’t say that. I am not paying Uncle +Rufus a penny. I told him I couldn’t—until I had seen you about it, +at least. And he is willing to stay anyhow—so he says.” + +“I don’t know about that old darkey,” said Mr. Howbridge, slowly. “I +believe he knew more about Mr. Peter Stower’s private affairs than he +seemed willing to tell the time I talked to him after your Uncle +Peter’s death. I don’t know about your keeping him there.” + +“Do you think he may know where Uncle Peter hid his private papers, +sir?” asked Ruth, eagerly. + +“Yes, I do. He’s an ignorant old negro. He might get the papers into +his hands, and the will might be lost forever.” + +“Oh, sir!” cried Ruth, earnestly, “I don’t think Uncle Rufus is at all +dishonest. I asked him about Uncle Peter’s hiding away things. He +knows what folks say about uncle’s being a miser.” + +“Well?” said Mr. Howbridge, questioningly. + +“Uncle Rufus says he knows his old master was that way. Aunt Sarah +says Uncle Peter was just like a magpie—that he hid away things +without any real reason for it.” + +“Ha! Miss Maltby was not fond of Mr. Peter Stower. They did not get +along well together.” + +“No, sir. I fancy not. And of course, Aunt Sarah doesn’t say much, +anyway. She is real hurt to think that he did not leave her the house +and money instead of leaving it to us,” and Ruth sighed. + +“Oh, he left her enough in his will to keep her in comfort for the +remainder of her life. She need not be envious,” said the lawyer, +carelessly. + +“Well,” sighed Ruth, “that isn’t what Aunt Sarah wanted. She feels she +ought to own the house. But we can’t help that, can we!” + +“No. Do not worry about your Aunt Sarah’s fidgets,” said the lawyer, +smiling once more. “But about Uncle Rufus?” + +Ruth had opened her bag, and now drew forth the scrap of paper Uncle +Rufus had given her. “Who do you think wrote that, sir?” she asked Mr. +Howbridge, simply. + +The moment the lawyer saw it he scowled. Staring at the paper fixedly +for some moments in silence, he finally asked: + +“When did the old darkey say he was given this?” + +“The day before Uncle Peter died. He said the poor old gentleman +couldn’t talk, then, but he managed to write that line. _Is_ it Uncle +Peter’s handwriting?” + +“It certainly is. Shaky, but plainly Mr. Stower’s own hand.” + +“Oh, sir! let us keep Uncle Rufus, then,” begged Ruth, quickly. + +“But you understand, Miss Kenway, that this request, unsigned as it +is, hasn’t an iota of legal weight?” + +“I don’t care!” said Ruth. + +“Why didn’t the old man show it to me?” + +“He was keeping it to show to the relatives of Uncle Peter who, he +expected, would have the old Corner House.” + +“Ha! and he was afraid of the lawyer, I suppose?” + +“You—you were not very sympathetic, were you?” said Ruth, slowly. + +“Right! I wasn’t. I could not be. I did not see my way clear to making +any provision for Uncle Rufus, for I knew very well that Mr. Stower +had not mentioned the old serving man in his will.” + +“Well—you’ll let us keep him?” + +“If you like. I’ll see that he has a little money every month, too. +And now I must not give you much more time to-day, my dear. But I wish +to put this envelope into your hand. In it you will find the amount of +money which I consider wise for each of you girls to spend +monthly—your allowance, I mean. + +“Such dresses as you need, will be paid for separately. You will find +that a charge account has been opened for you at this store,” and he +passed the surprised Ruth the business card of the largest department +store in town. “But buy wisely. If you spend too much, be sure you +will hear from me. The monthly allowance is pin-money. Squander it as +you please without accounting to me—only to your own consciences,” +and he laughed and rose to show her out of his private office. + +Ruth thanked him and slipped the bulky envelope into her bag. She +could not open it there, or on the street, and she hurried homeward, +eager to see just what Mr. Howbridge considered a proper allowance for +the Corner House Girls to “squander.” + +The east wind was tearing across the parade ground and the trees +overhead, as Ruth started over the big common, writhed in the clutch +of it. The rain came in fitful dashes. The girl sheltered herself as +best she could with the umbrella. + +Such gusts are hard to judge, however. Although she clung to the +umbrella with both hands, one savage squall swept down upon Ruth +Kenway and fairly snatched the umbrella from her grasp. It whirled +away over the wet lawn, and turned inside out! + +“No use chasing _that_ thing,” said Ruth, in disgust. “It’s past +repairing. I’ll just have to face it.” + +She hurried on, her head bowed before the slanting rain. She came to +the Willow Street crossing and glanced up at the old Corner House. Not +only could she see the great, frowning front of the mansion, with its +four huge pillars, but she could view, too, the side next to Willow +Street. + +Nobody was looking out of the windows on the watch for her, that she +could see. The parlors were on this side of the main building, and the +girls did not use them. Above, on the second floor, were the sleeping +room and library in which Uncle Peter had spent the last years of his +life. + +Above those blind windows was another row of windows on the third +floor, with the shades pulled down tightly. And then, above those, in +the peak of the roof, were several small garret windows. + +“That’s where that girl said the ghost came and looked out,” Ruth said +aloud, stopping suddenly. + +And just at that identical moment the ghost _did_ look out! + +Ruth saw it. Only for a moment, but just as plain as plain could be! A +white, fluttering figure—a sort of faceless figure with what seemed +to be long garments fluttering about it. + +Nobody ever has to see a ghost to know just what one looks like. +People who see ghosts recognize their appearance by intuition. This +was the garret ghost of the old Corner House, and Ruth was the first +of the Kenway girls to see it. + +She had made fun of Agnes’ belief in things supernatural, but she +could not control the shaking of her own limbs now. It was visible up +there at the garret window for only half a minute; yet Ruth knew it +was no hallucination. + +It disappeared with a jump. She did not wait to see if it came back +again, but scurried across the street and in at the side gate, and so +to the back porch, with scarcely a breath left in her body. + +Ruth was just as scared as she could be. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +IN THE GARRET + + +It would never do to burst into the house and scare the younger girls. +This thought halted Ruth Kenway, with her hand upon the knob of the +outer door. + +She waited, getting her breath back slowly, and recovering from the +shock that had set every nerve in her body trembling. Of course she +did not believe in ghosts! Then, why should she have been so +frightened by the fluttering figure seen—for only half a minute, or +so—in the garret window of the old Corner House? + +Like the old lady in the fable, she did not believe in ghosts, but she +was very much afraid of them! + +“It’s quite ridiculous, I know,” Ruth told herself, “for a great big +thing like me to shake and shiver over what I positively _know_ is +merely imagination. That was an old skirt—or a bag—or a cloak—or +_something_, waving there at that window. + +“Er—er, that’s just it!” breathed Ruth. “It was _something_. And +until I find out just what it is, I shall not be satisfied. Now, I’m +going to be brave, and walk in there to the girls and Mrs. McCall, and +say nothing. But we’ll start cleaning that garret this very +afternoon,” she concluded, nodding a determined head. + +So she ran into the house to find her three sisters in the +dining-room, with such a peculiar air upon them that Ruth could not +fail to be shocked. “What under the canopy, as Mrs. McCall says, is +the matter with you all!” she demanded. + +“Well! I am glad you have come home, Ruth,” Agnes began, impulsively. +“The most mysterious things happen around this house——” + +“Hush!” commanded Ruth. “What is it now? You come up stairs to our +room and tell me while I change my clothes. You little ones stay down +here till sister comes back.” + +Agnes had stopped at her warning, and meekly followed Ruth up stairs. +In their room the older girl turned on her and demanded: + +“What did you see, Aggie?” + +“I didn’t—it was Tess saw him,” replied Agnes, quickly. + +“_Him?_” gasped Ruth. + +“Yes. Of course, it’s foolish. But so many strange things happen in +this old house. First, you know, what Eva Larry told me about the +ghost——” + +“Sh! you haven’t seen it?” + +“The ghost!” squealed Agnes. “I should hope not. If I had——” + +She signified by her look and manner that such an apparition would +have quite overcome her. + +“It was Tess,” she said. + +“She hasn’t been to the garret?” + +“Of course not! You believe in that old ghost, after all, Ruth.” + +“What nonsense!” + +“Well, if it wasn’t a ghost Tess saw, it was something like it. The +child is convinced. And coming on top of those vanishing kittens——” + +“For mercy’s sake, Aggie Kenway!” screamed Ruth, grabbing her by the +shoulders and giving Agnes a little shake. “_Do_ be more lucid.” + +“Why—ee! I guess I haven’t told you much,” laughed Agnes. “It was +Tess who looked out of the kitchen window a little while ago and saw +Tommy Rooney going by the house—on Willow Street.” + +“Tommy Rooney?” + +“Yes. Tess declares it was. And she’s not imaginative like Dot, you +know.” + +“Not Tommy Rooney, from Bloomingsburg?” + +“There isn’t any other Tommy Rooney that we know,” said Agnes, quite +calm now. “And if _that_ doesn’t make a string of uncanny happenings, +I don’t know what _would_. First the ghost in the garret——” + +“But—but you haven’t seen that?” interrupted Ruth, faintly. + +“No, thank goodness! But it’s _there_. And then the vanishing +kittens——” + +“Has Spotty gone?” + +“No. But Sandy-face has, and has been gone ever since you went out, +Ruth. I don’t think much of that mother cat. She doesn’t stay at home +with her family hardly at all. + +“Then this boy who looks like Tommy Rooney,” concluded Agnes. “For of +course it can’t really _be_ Tommy any more than it can be his spirit.” + +“I’m glad to see you have some sense, Ag,” said Ruth, with a sigh. +“Now let’s go down to the other girls, or they will think we’re hiding +something from them.” + +Ruth carried down stairs in her hand the envelope Mr. Howbridge had +given to her. The sisters gathered in the dining-room, and Agnes +picked up Spotty to comfort him while his mother was absent. “Poor +’ittle s’ing!” she cooed over the funny little kitten. “He don’t know +wedder him’s got any mudder, or not.” + +“It seems to me,” said Dot, gravely, “that Sandy-face must be hunting +for her lost children. She wouldn’t really neglect this poor little +Spotty for any other reason—would she?” + +“Of course not,” Ruth said, briskly. “Now, girls, look here. Mr. +Howbridge says we may keep Uncle Rufus, and he will pay him.” + +“Oh, goody!” cried Agnes, clapping her hands. + +At once Spotty tumbled off her lap and scurried under the sofa. He was +not used to such actions. + +“Now you’ve scared Spotty, I’m afraid,” said Tess. + +“He can get over his scare. What’s that in your hand, Ruth?” demanded +Agnes. + +“This is some money Mr. Howbridge gave me for us to spend. He calls it +our monthly allowance. He says we are to use it just as we +please—each of us.” + +“Is some of it mine?” asked Dot. + +“Yes, dearie. We’ll see how much he gives you to spend for your very +owniest own, first of all.” + +Ruth tore open the big envelope and shook out four sealed envelopes of +smaller size. She sorted them and found the one addressed in Mr. +Howbridge’s clerkly hand to “Miss Dorothy Kenway.” + +“Now open it, Dot,” urged Tess. + +The little girl did so, with sparkling eyes and the color flushing +into her cheeks. From the envelope, when it was opened, she drew a +crisp, folded dollar bill. + +“My!” she murmured. “A whole—new—dollar bill! My! And can I spend it +all, Ruthie?” + +“Surely,” said the elder sister, smiling. + +“Then I know just what I’m going to do,” said Dot, nodding her head. + +“What’s that?” asked Agnes. + +“I’m going to buy some candy on Saturday that’s not pep’mints. I just +_am_. I’m tired of Aunt Sarah’s old pep’mint drops.” + +The other girls laughed loudly at this decision of Dot’s. “You funny +little thing!” said Ruth. “Of course you shall buy candy—if you want +to. But I wouldn’t spend the whole dollar for it. Remember, you’ll get +no more spending money until this time next month.” + +“I should hope she’d have sense enough to kind of spread it out +through the month,” said Agnes. “Hurry up, Ruth. Let’s see what he’s +given the rest of us.” + +Tess opened her envelope and found a dollar and a half. “Oh, I’m +_rich_!” she declared. “I’m awfully obliged to Mr. Howbridge. I’ll +tell him so when he comes again.” Then she turned swiftly to Dot and +hugged her. “You don’t mind if I have half a dollar more than _you_ +do, Dot?” she asked. “I’ll divide it with you.” + +That was Tess’ way. She could not bear to think that anybody’s +feelings were hurt because of her. Ruth intervened: + +“Dot knows you are two whole years older than she, Tess. Both of you +have more money to spend than you ever had before, and I am sure +neither will be selfish with it.” + +Agnes grabbed her envelope. “I’m just as anxious to see as I can be,” +she confessed. + +When she ripped open the envelope she drew forth two crisp dollar +bills. But in Ruth’s there were five dollars. + +“My! it’s a lot of money,” Agnes said. “And I guess you _ought_ to +have more than us—a great deal more, Ruthie. I’m glad of my two +dollars. I can treat Eva Larry and Myra Stetson. And I’ll get some new +ribbons, and a book I saw in a window that I want to read. Then, +there’s the prettiest pair of buckles for fifty cents in the shoeshop +window right down Main Street. Did you see them, Ruth? I want them for +my best slippers. They’ll look scrumptious! And I’d _love_ to have one +of those embroidered handkerchiefs that they sell at the Lady’s Shop. +Besides, it’s nice to have a little change to rattle in one’s +purse——” + +“Mercy!” exclaimed Ruth. “You’ve spent your allowance twice over, +already. And you still hope to rattle it in your purse! You want to +have your cake, and eat it, too—which is something that nobody ever +managed to accomplish yet, my dear.” + +It was really wonderful for them all to have money of their own that +need not be accounted for. They came to the luncheon table with very +bright faces, despite the stormy day. They did not say anything, +before Aunt Sarah, about the allowance Mr. Howbridge had given them. +Ruth was afraid that Aunt Sarah might feel hurt about it. + +“She _is_ so touchy,” she said to the others, “about Uncle Peter’s +money. And she ought to know that she is just as welcome to her share +as she can be!” + +“I expect,” the thoughtful Tess said, “that Aunt Sarah would have +enjoyed giving to us just as much as we enjoy giving to her. Maybe +_that’s_ what’s the matter with her.” + +Perhaps that was partly Aunt Sarah’s trouble. However, there were +other topics of conversation to keep their tongues busy, if the money +was tabooed. Tess could not keep from talking about Tommy Rooney. + +“I _know_ it was Tommy I saw,” she declared. + +“But how could Tommy get here, clear from Bloomingsburg?” Ruth said. +“You know how long it took us to get here by train.” + +“I know, Sister,” Tess said. “But it _was_ Tommy. And he must have had +an awfully hard time.” + +“Do—do you s’pose he is looking for us?” queried Dot. + +“Don’t you fret, Dot,” assured Agnes. “He sha’n’t jump out and say +‘Boo!’ at you any more.” + +“It isn’t that. I guess the dark scared me more than Tommy did,” +confessed Dot. “But say, Tess! Did he have his Indian suit on when he +went by in the rain?” + +“No. Just rags,” declared Tess. + +After luncheon Ruth rummaged for brooms, brushes and dustcloths. Mrs. +McCall asked: + +“What under the canopy are you girls going to do now?” + +“Garret. Going to clean it,” said Agnes. + +“You’re never going up in that garret in a storm?” demanded the widow, +with a strange look on her face. + +“Why not?” asked Agnes, eagerly. + +“What do you want to bother with it for?” the good lady asked Ruth +without making Agnes any reply. + +“So we can play there on just such days as this,” said Ruth, firmly. +“It will make a splendid playroom.” + +“Well! I wouldn’t do it for a farm,” declared Mrs. McCall, and at once +went out of the room, so that the girls could not ask further +questions. Agnes whispered to Ruth: + +“She knows about the ghost, all right!” + +“Don’t be so silly,” the older girl said. But her own heart throbbed +tumultuously as she led the procession up the garret stairs a little +later. They could hear the wind whistling around the house up here. A +shutter rattled, and then the wind gurgled deep in the throat of one +of the unused chimneys. + +“Goodness!” gasped Tess. “How many strange voices the storm has, +hasn’t it? Say, Dot! do you s’pose we’ll find that goat of yours up +here now?” + +“I don’t care,” said the littler girl. “Aggie and Ruth were talking +about something that sounded like ‘goat’ that night in bed. And they +won’t tell now what it was.” + +“You must never play eavesdropper,” said Ruth, seriously. “It is very +unlady-like.” + +“Then folks shouldn’t whisper,” declared Dot, quickly. “Nobody would +ever _try_ to listen, if folks spoke right out loud. You say, +yourself, Ruth, that it’s not polite to whisper.” + +They opened the garret door and peered in. Although it was so dull a +day outside, there was plenty of light up here. The rain beat against +some of the windows and the wind shook and rattled the sashes. + +Ruth’s gaze turned instantly upon the window at which she believed she +had seen the moving figure from across Willow Street. There was +nothing hanging near that window that could possibly have shown from +without. + +She forced herself to go directly to the place. It was at the right of +one of the huge chimneys and she could make no mistake, she thought, +for it was at the window to the right of this chimney that she had +seen the specter appear not two hours before! + +A large space about this window was cleared. There was nothing near +enough the window that could have represented the garret ghost. But +this cleared space before the window seemed to have been made +especially for the ghostly capers of the “haunt.” + +Agnes came gingerly over to where Ruth stood. She whispered in the +older girl’s ear: + +“S’pose that old ghost should appear, Ruth? What would you do? You +know, Eva said it was seen only on stormy days.” + +“Don’t be silly, child,” said Ruth, quite angrily. She was angry as +much at herself for “feeling so shaky inside,” as she was at Agnes. + +She bustled about then, and hurried her sisters, too. They made a good +beginning within the next two hours. Of course, it was _only_ a +beginning. Dust and cobwebs lay thick over all. They could brush up +only the worst of the litter. + +“Next clear day,” Ruth declared, “we’ll take all these old clothes +down and hang what we want to keep on the lines in the yard. Uncle +Rufus can have the rest. Why do you suppose Uncle Peter kept this old +stuff?” + +“They say he got so he wouldn’t give away a pin, at the last,” said +Agnes. “And some of these old things must have belonged to people dead +and gone when Uncle Peter himself was a boy.” + +“I expect so,” agreed Ruth. + +“What do you suppose is in all these chests and trunks, Ruthie?” asked +Tess. + +“Don’t know, honey. But we’ll find out some day.” + +Just then Uncle Rufus’ tones reached them from the stairway. He +called, in his quavering old voice: + +“Missie! An’ you oder chillen. I done got somet’ing ter tell yo’.” + +“What is it?” cried Agnes, running to open the door at the top of the +stairs. + +“I done foun’ out what happen ter dem kittens, Missie,” said Uncle +Rufus. “You-all come ri’ down an’ I’ll show yo’.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +MRS. KRANZ COMES TO CALL + + +The girls came down from the garret in a hurry, when they heard this +news. Uncle Rufus hobbled on before to the kitchen. There was +Sandy-face and Spotty in front of the range. They were both very wet +and the old cat was licking the kitten dry. + +“Where—where’s the others?” cried Tess. “Did you find Almira?” + +“I want my Bungle,” declared Dot. “Didn’t you find my Bungle kitten, +Uncle Rufus?” + +“Sho, chile! I didn’t say I foun’ dem kittens. I on’y say I knowed +where dey went.” + +“Where?” was the chorused demand. + +Uncle Rufus rolled his eyes and chuckled deeply. “Das ol’ cat play a +joke on we-uns,” he declared. “She t’ink she an’ de kittens on’y come +yere for a visit. And so she lug ’em all back to Mars’ Stetson’s +store—ya-as’m!” + +“Carried them back to the store?” cried Ruth. “Oh! she couldn’t.” + +“Ya-as’m. One at a time. In her teef,” said Uncle Rufus, nodding +confidently. “I jes’ kotch her out on the sidewalk wid dis leetle +brack kitten, marchin’ straight fo’ de store. Dat how she come go ’way +an’ stay so long. Nex’ time you go to Mars’ Stetson’s, you find dem +dere—sho’.” + +“But she couldn’t have taken them out of the woodshed,” cried Agnes. + +“Ya-as’m, she did. She git out de winder. A cat kin squeeze through a +moughty small space—so she kin.” + +“Why, you foolish Sandy-face!” exclaimed Dot. “And we tried to make +you feel at home—didn’t we, Ruthie?” + +“Butter her feet,” said Aunt Sarah, who chanced to be in the kitchen +at the moment. “I told you that before,” and she walked out. + +“Goodness! we’ll butter all their feet,” cried Agnes, “if that will +keep them here. Just as soon as it holds up a little, I’ll run over to +Mr. Stetson’s and see if it is so. The poor old thing! to carry those +kittens so far. But, me-oh-my! cats haven’t much sense, after all, +have they?” + +Uncle Rufus was proved right—and that before supper time. The rain +held up, and Agnes scurried over to the store, bringing back, huddled +in a small covered basket, Popocatepetl, Almira, and Bungle, who all +seemed very glad to rejoin Spotty. Sandy-face looked absurdly pleased +to see them—just as though she had not carried them back, one by one, +to a hiding place behind the flour barrels in Mr. Stetson’s +store-room! + +Agnes insisted upon buttering the mother-cat’s paws. And to make sure +of it, she buttered the paws of the four kittens as well. + +“There,” she said, “when Sandy gets through lapping all that butter +up, she ought to be _proud_ to stay here, for butter’s forty cents a +pound right now!” + +“You extravagant thing,” sighed Ruth, shaking her head. + +“Yes!” cried Agnes. “And it’s so nice to be extravagant. I declare, +Ruth, I feel that I was just born to be a rich girl. It _tickles_ me +to be extravagant.” + +Since returning from Mr. Howbridge’s office, Ruth had evolved a +question that she wished to put to Uncle Rufus. The mystery of the +lost will was ever present in the mind of the oldest of the Corner +House girls, and this query had to do with that mystery. + +“Uncle Rufus,” she asked the old man, after dinner that evening when +he was carefully putting away the silver and they were alone together +in the dining-room, “Uncle Rufus, do you know where Uncle Peter used +to keep his private papers?” + +“Sho’, Missie, he kept dem in de safe in his study—ya-as’m. Yo’ know +dat safe; don’t yo’?” + +“But Mr. Howbridge has the key to that safe, and to the desk, and all. +And there are some things—quite important things—that he can’t find. +Didn’t Uncle Peter have some other hiding place?” + +“Glo-ree, Missie! I ’spect he did,” said Uncle Rufus, rolling his +eyes. “But I nebber knowed whar dat is.” + +“And you lived right here with him all those years?” + +“Why, Missie, I tell yo’ how it was,” said Uncle Rufus, dropping his +voice. “Yo’ see, latterly, Mars’ Peter got pecool’ar—ya-as’m. Yo’ +might call it pecool’ar. I knowed he was superstitious of +folks—ya-as’m. He used ter send me out on errands—plumb foolish +errands, Missie; den I reckon he hid t’ings away. But I don’ know +whar.” + +“You haven’t the least suspicion?” asked Ruth, anxiously. + +“Well now!” said Uncle Rufus, rubbing the bald spot on his head as +though to stir his wits into action. “Dar was dat time he got mad at +me.” + +“What about?” + +“I warn’t gone so long on an errand, lak’ he ’spected me ter be, I +reckon. An’ w’en I come back he warn’t in his room, an’ dere he was +a-comin’ down from de garret with a lighted candle.” + +“From the garret?” + +“Yes, Missie. An’ he sho’ was mad with ol’ Unc’ Rufus.” + +“Perhaps he hid papers, then, in one of those chests, or bureaus up +there?” + +“Cyan’t say, Missie. Mebbe. But yo’ don’ ketch Unc’ Rufus goin’ up dem +garret stairs much—no’m!” + +“Why not, Uncle Rufus?” asked Ruth, quickly. “Are you afraid of the +garret ghost?” + +“Glo-ree! who done tell yo’ erbout _dat_?” demanded the colored man, +rolling his eyes again. “Don’ talk erbout ghos’es; it’s sho’ baid +luck.” + +That was all Ruth could get out of the old negro. He had all the fear +of his race for supernatural things. + +It was the next day that Mrs. Kranz came to call. The Corner House +girls had never seen Mrs. Kranz before, but they never could forget +her after their first view of her! + +She was a huge lady, in a purple dress, and with a sweeping gray plume +on her big hat, and lavender gloves. She had the misfortune to possess +a hair-mole on one of her cheeks, and Dot could not keep her eyes off +of that blemish, although she knew it was impolite to stare. + +Mrs. Kranz came to the front door of the old Corner House and gave a +resounding summons on the big, brass knocker that decorated the middle +panel. Nobody had ventured to approach that door, save Mr. Howbridge, +since the Corner House girls had come to Milton. + +“Goodness! who can that be?” demanded Agnes, when the reverberations +of the knocker echoed through the big hall. + +“Company! I know it’s company!” cried Tess, running to peer out of the +dining-room window. + +Ruth gave a glance about the big room, which they still made their +sitting room in general, and approached the hall. Dot whispered: + +“Oh-ee! I hope there are some little girls coming to call.” + +There was nobody but this huge lady, though half a dozen little girls +might have hidden behind her voluminous skirts. Ruth smiled upon the +giantess and said, quickly, “Good-morning!” + +“Vell!” was the deep-throated reply—almost a grunt. “Vell! iss de +family home?” + +“Certainly,” said Ruth, in her politest way. “Do come in. We are all +at home,” and she ushered the visitor into the dining-room. + +The lady stared hard at all the girls, and then around at the +old-fashioned furniture; at the plate rail of Delft china which Ruth +had taken out of a cupboard, where it had been hidden away for years; +at the ancient cellarette; and at the few pieces of heavy plate with +which the highboy and the lowboy were both decorated. + +“Vell!” exclaimed the visitor, in that exceedingly heavy voice of +hers, and for the third time. “I hear dere iss only +madchens—girls—in dis house. Iss dot so—heh?” + +“We are the four Kenway girls,” said Ruth, pleasantly. “We have no +mother or father. But Aunt Sarah——” + +“But you own dis house undt all de odder houses vot belonged to dot +cr-r-ra-zy old mans—heh?” + +Ruth flushed a little. She had begun to feel that such references to +Uncle Peter were both unkind and insulting. “Uncle Peter left his +property by will to us,” she said. + +“Vell, I am Mrs. Kranz,” said the large lady, her little eyes +sparkling in rather a strange way, Ruth thought. + +“We are very glad to meet you—to have you call, Mrs. Kranz,” Ruth +said. “Not many of our neighbors have been in to see us as yet.” + +“I aind’t von of de neighbors, Miss Kenway,” said the visitor. “I am +choose Mrs. Kranz. I keeps de grocery store on Meadow Street yet.” + +“We are just as glad to see you, Mrs. Kranz,” returned Ruth, still +smiling, “although you do not live very near us,” for she knew that +Meadow Street was at the other side of the town. + +“Vell! maype nodt,” said Mrs. Kranz. “Maype you iss nodt so glad to +see me yet. I gome to tell you dot I vill nodt stand for dot Joe +Maroni no longer. He has got to get dot cellar oudt. His r-r-rotten +vegetables smells in mine nostrils. His young vuns iss in my vay—undt +dey steal. An’ dey are all very, very dirty. + +“I keep a nice shop—eferbody vill tell you so, Miss Kenway. Idt iss a +clean shop, and them _Eye_-talians dey iss like pigs yet—de vay dey +lif!” cried Mrs. Kranz, excitedly. “I pay mine rent, undt I haf mine +rights. I gome to tell you—so-o!” + +“Oh, dear me!” breathed Ruth, in surprise. “I—I don’t know what you +are talking about, Mrs. Kranz. Have—have _we_ got anything to do with +your trouble?” + +“Vell!” exclaimed the large lady. “Hafn’t you say you own de house?” + +“So Mr. Howbridge says. We own this house——” + +“Undt _mine_ house,” declared Mrs. Kranz. “Undt more houses. Your +uncle, Herr Stower, own idt. I pay mine rent to him for ten year yet.” + +Ruth began to see—and so did Agnes. Of course, the little girls only +stared and wondered at the woman’s coarse voice and strange +appearance. + +“You were one of uncle’s tenants?” said Ruth, quickly. + +“For ten year,” repeated Mrs. Kranz. + +“And you are having trouble with another tenant?” + +“Mit dot Joe Maroni. He has kinder like steps—von, two, tri, fo’, +five, six—like _dot_,” and the woman indicated by gestures the height +of the children in rotation. “Dey swarm all ofer de blace. I cannot +stand dem—undt de dirt—Ach! idt iss terrible.” + +“I am sorry, Mrs. Kranz,” Ruth said, quietly. “I understand that this +Italian family are likewise tenants of the house?” + +“They lif de cellar in—undt sell vegetables, undt coal, undt wood, +undt ice—undt dirt! heafens, vot dirt!” and the plume on Mrs. Kranz’s +hat trembled throughout its length, while her red face grew redder, +and her eyes more sparkling. + +“But perhaps, Mrs. Kranz, the poor things know no better,” Ruth +suggested. “It must be dreadful to have to live in a cellar. They have +nobody to teach them. Don’t the children go to school—when there is +school, I mean?” + +“Undt I—am _I_ no example to dem yet?” demanded the lady. “Ach! dese +foreigners! I nefer could get along yet mit foreigners.” + +This tickled Agnes so that she laughed, and then coughed to hide it. +Mrs. Kranz was attracted to the twelve year old. + +“Dot iss a pretty madchen,” she said, smiling broadly upon Agnes. “She +iss your sister, too? Undt de kinder?” her sharp eyes sighting Tess +and Dot. + +“This is Agnes,” Ruth said, gladly changing the subject for a moment. +“And this is Tess, and _this_, Dot—Dorothy, you know. We have had no +mother for more than two years.” + +“Ach!” said Mrs. Kranz, in a tone denoting sympathy, and she made a +funny clucking noise in her throat. “De poor kinder! Undt _you_ haf de +hausmutter been—no?” + +“Yes,” replied Ruth. “I have _loved_ to take care of the little ones. +Agnes is a great help. And now, since we have come here to the old +Corner House, we have Mrs. McCall and Uncle Rufus. Besides, there has +always been Aunt Sarah.” + +Mrs. Kranz’s big face looked rather blank, but in a moment her thought +returned to the subject of her visit. + +“Vell!” she said. “Undt vot about dot Joe Maroni?” + +“Dear Mrs. Kranz,” Ruth said, “I do not know anything about the +property Uncle Peter left, as yet. I shall speak to Mr. Howbridge +about it. He is our guardian, you understand, and a lawyer. I am sure +we can find some way of relieving you.” + +Mrs. Kranz grunted: “Vell!” + +“I shall come to see you,” promised Ruth. “And I shall see these +Italians and try to get them to clean up their cellar. I am sorry you +should be so troubled by them.” + +Meanwhile she had whispered to Tess and sent her running to Mrs. +McCall. Mrs. Kranz gradually lost her offended look. She even took Dot +upon her broad lap—though that was a precarious position and Dot was +in danger of sliding off all the time. + +“Mine oldt man undt I nefer have no kinder,” said Mrs. Kranz, sighing +windily. “Ve both vor-r-k—Oh! so hard!—ven young we are. Ven we +marry we are alretty oldt yet. Undt now mine oldt man iss dead for +sefen year, undt I am all alone.” + +Tears came to the good lady’s eyes. Ruth, seeing a propitious moment, +said a word for Joe Maroni’s children. + +“I should think you would like those Italian children, Mrs. Kranz. +Aren’t they pretty? ’Most always I think they are.” + +Mrs. Kranz raised her two hands in a helpless gesture. “Ach! heafens! +if dey vos clean yet I could lofe dem!” she declared. + +Just then Uncle Rufus, in his official coat and spats and white vest, +arrived with the tray. It was evident that Mrs. Kranz was immensely +impressed by the presence of the old serving man. She accepted a cup +of coffee and a piece of cake, and nibbled the one and sipped the +other amidst a running fire of comment upon the late Mr. Stower, and +his death, and the affairs of the tenements and stores Uncle Peter had +owned in her neighborhood. + +Ruth learned much about this property that she had never heard before. +Uncle Peter had once collected his own rents—indeed, it was during +only the last few years of his life that a clerk from Mr. Howbridge’s +office had done the collecting. + +Uncle Peter had been in touch with his tenants. He had been a hard man +to get repairs out of, so Mrs. Kranz said, but he had always treated +the good tenants justly. With a record of ten years of steady rent +paying behind her, Mrs. Kranz considered that she should be recognized +and her complaint attended to. As she could get no satisfaction from +the lawyer’s clerk (for Joe Maroni was a prompt paying tenant, too), +she had determined to see the owners. + +These were the facts leading to the good lady’s visit. Before she went +away again Mrs. Kranz was much pacified, and openly an admirer of the +Corner House girls. + +“Ach! if I had madchens like you of my own yet!” she said, as she +descended the porch steps, on her departure. + +Agnes gazed after her more seriously than was her wont. She did not +even laugh at Mrs. Kranz, as Ruth expected. + +“And I believe she’s an old dear at that,” Ruth said, reflectively. +“Maybe we can get her to help those little Italian children—if we can +once get their parents to clean them up.” + +“Well!” breathed Agnes, finally. “I wasn’t thinking particularly about +her—or of the Joe Maroni kids. I was just thinking that perhaps it is +not always so nice to be rich, after all. Now! we didn’t have to worry +about tenement house property, and the quarrels of the tenants, when +we lived on Essex Street in Bloomingsburg.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE MARONIS + + +It was on this day, too, that Agnes received a letter from +Bloomingsburg. Kitty Robelle wrote a long and “newsy” letter, for +Kitty had been one of Agnes’ most cherished friends. + +Kitty lived right next door to the house in which the Kenways had +lived so long, so she had all the news to impart of the old +neighborhood. One item interested the four Corner House girls +immensely. + +“Little Tommy Rooney has run away and his mother can’t find out what’s +become of him. He swapped his Indian suit with Patsy Link for a cowboy +suit, and has been gone a week. The police, even, can’t find him.” + +“There now!” cried Tess. “What did I tell you? I _knew_ I saw him go +past here in the rain.” + +“Oh, but, Tess,” said Ruth, “you can’t be sure. And how could he ever +have gotten to Milton?” + +“I don’t know,” said the confident Tess. “But he’s here.” + +Dot agreed with her. “You know,” the latter said, gravely, “he said he +was coming to Milton to shoot Indians.” + +“The foolish boy!” exclaimed Ruth. “Indians, indeed!” + +“Did he expect to eat them after he shot them?” demanded Agnes. “How +would he live?” + +“Perhaps he’s hungry, poor boy,” said Ruth. “I wish you girls had run +after him that day—if it was Tommy.” + +“He looked awfully ragged,” said Tess, with pity. “Boys must be a +_naw_ful burden. Isn’t it lucky we haven’t any brothers to look after, +Ruth?” + +“Very fortunate, I think,” agreed the oldest Kenway. + +“Well,” sighed Dot, “Tommy was a real bad boy, but Mrs. Rooney thinks +just as much of him, I s’pose, as though he was a girl.” + +“Not a doubt of it,” chuckled Agnes. “And if we find Tommy, we’ll send +him home to her.” + +Having made a promise to Mrs. Kranz, Ruth was not the girl to neglect +its fulfillment. She was doubtful, however, whether or no she should +first see Mr. Howbridge. + +The lawyer was a busy man; perhaps he would not thank her for bringing +such complaints as this of the grocery store-keeper to his attention. +Agnes said: + +“He’s got troubles of his own, you may be sure, Ruth. And, honest—I +don’t see as Mrs. Kranz has any business to bring her complaints to +us.” + +“But I said I’d see what I could do.” + +“Of course. And I’ll go with you. I’m awfully eager to see this Joe +Maroni and his family—especially the ‘kinder like steps,’ as Mrs. +Kranz says.” + +Ruth agreed to let only Aggie go with her after the younger girl had +given her word not to laugh. “It is nice to have a sense of humor, I +guess, Ag,” said the older girl, “but you want to have tact with it. +Don’t hurt people’s feelings by laughing at them.” + +“I know,” sighed Agnes. “But Mrs. Kranz was so funny! To hear her say +she did not like foreigners, when she can scarcely speak English +herself.” + +“You might be a foreigner yourself, Ag, as far as speaking correctly +goes,” laughed Ruth. “You’re awfully slangy. And Mrs. Kranz has lived +in this country for many, many years. She happens to be one of those +unfortunate Germans who can never master English. But I know she has a +kind heart.“ + +“She’s dead sore on Joe Maroni and his tribe, just the same,” declared +Agnes, proving the truth of her sister’s accusation as to her +slanginess. + +The two older Kenways walked the next afternoon across town to Meadow +Street. It was in the poorer section of Milton, near the silk mills. +Although the houses were not so tall, and were mostly frame buildings, +the street reminded Ruth and Agnes of Essex Street, in Bloomingsburg, +where they had resided before coming to the old Corner House. + +Mrs. Kranz had given them her number; and it was not hard to find the +three-story, brick-front building in which she kept store. Mrs. Kranz +hired the entire street floor, living in rooms at the back. There were +tenements above, with a narrow hall and stairway leading to them at +one side. The cellar was divided, half being used by Mrs. Kranz for a +store-room. + +The other half was the dwelling and store of the Italian, Joe Maroni, +whose name was painted crookedly on a small sign, and under it his +goods were enumerated as + + ISE COLE WOOD VGERTABLS + +Joe himself was in evidence as the girls came to the place. He was a +little, active, curly haired man, in velveteen clothing and cap, gold +rings in his ears, and a fierce mustache. + +“A regular brigand,” whispered Agnes, rather shrinking from his +vicinity and clinging to Ruth’s hand. + +“I’m sure he’s a reformed brigand,” Ruth laughed. + +The girls’ own nostrils informed them that part of Mrs. Kranz’s +complaint must be true, for there was a tall basket beside the +vegetable and fruit stand into which Joe had thrown decayed vegetable +leaves and fruit. It was a very warm day and the odor certainly was +offensive. + +Joe came forward smiling, as the girls stopped at the stand. “Want-a +da orange—da pear—da banan’?” he asked, in a most agreeable way. +Agnes immediately reversed her opinion and declared he was actually +_handsome_. + +“Nice-a vegetables,” said Joe, eager to display his wares. “All +fre-esh.” + +Ruth took her courage in both hands and smiled at him in return. “We +haven’t come to buy anything this afternoon, Mr. Maroni,” she said. +“You see, our Uncle Peter gave us this house when he died. Our name is +Kenway. We have come to see you——” + +“Si! Si!” cried the Italian, understanding them at once. “You da litla +Padrona wot own all dese,” with a wave of his hand that was both +graceful and explanatory. “Me, Joe, me hear-a ’bout de litla Padrona. +Grazias!” and he bowed and lifted his cap. + +The children had appeared from the cool depths of the cellar as if by +magic. They _were_ like a flight of steps in height, and the oldest +was a very pretty girl, possibly as old as Agnes, but much smaller. +Joe turned swiftly to this one and said something in his own tongue, +nothing of which did the visitors understand save the child’s name, +“Maria.” + +Maria darted down the steps again, and immediately Joe fished out a +basket from under the stand and proceeded to fill it with his very +choicest fruit. + +“For you, Padrona,” he explained, bowing to Ruth again. “You mak-a me +ver’ hap’ to come see me. Grazias!” + +“Oh, but Mr. Maroni!” cried Ruth, rather nervously. “You must not give +us all that nice fruit. And we did not come just to call. Some—some +of the other tenants have complained about you.” + +The man looked puzzled, and then troubled. “What is that ‘complain’?” +he asked. “They no lik-a me? They no lik-a my wife? They no lik-a my +chil’ren?” + +“Oh, no! nothing like that,” Ruth said, sympathetically. “They only +say you do not keep the stand clean. See! that basket of rotting +vegetables and fruit. You should get rid of it at once. Don’t the +collectors come through this part of the town for garbage?” + +“Si! Si!” cried Joe, shrugging his shoulders. “But sometimes come +first my poor compatriots—si? They find da orange with da speck; dey +fin’ potato part good-a—see?” All the time he was showing them the +specked vegetables and fruit in the basket. Although his hands were +grimed, Ruth noticed that he was otherwise clean. The children, though +dirty and ragged, were really beautiful. + +“W’en da poor peep’ go, then I put out-a da basket for da cart,” +pursued Joe, still smiling and still gesturing. + +Up the steps at that moment came a smiling, broad Italian woman, with +a gay clean bandanna over her glossy black hair. She was a pretty +woman, too, with the same features as little Maria. + +“Good-a day! good-a day!” she said, bobbing and courtesying. Then she +added something in Italian which was a friendly greeting. + +Joe smiled on her dazzlingly. She wore heavier earrings than Joe and a +great gilt brooch to hold the neck of her gown together. + +“She no spe’k da English mooch,” explained the man. “But da +keeds——Oh! dey learn to spe’k fine in da school. We been in dis +country six year—no? We come here fi’ year ago. We doin’ fine!” +explained Joe, with enthusiasm. + +Agnes was already hugging one of the toddlers, and trying to find a +clean spot on his pretty face that she could kiss. “Aren’t they little +darlings?” she said to Ruth. + +The older girl agreed with her, but she was having difficulty herself +in forming the request she wished to make to the Italian. Finally she +said: + +“Joe, you must let the city men take away your spoiled fruit every +morning. You can pick it over yourself and save what you think your +poor friends would like. Although, it is very bad to eat decayed fruit +and vegetables. Bad for the health, you know.” + +“Si! Si!” exclaimed Joe, smiling right along. “I understand. It shall +be as da litla Padrona command. Eh?” + +“And let me go down into the cellar, Joe. For your own sake—for your +children’s health, you know—you must keep everything clean.” + +The woman spoke quickly and with energy. Joe nodded a great deal. “Si! +Si!” he said. “So the good-a doctor say wot come to see da bébé.” + +“Oh! have you a baby?” cried Agnes, clasping her hands. + +The woman smiled at the eager girl and offered her hand to lead Agnes +down the broken steps. Ruth followed them. The cellar was damp because +of the ice blocks covered with a horseblanket at one side. Beyond the +first partition, in a darker room, there was an old bedstead with ugly +looking comforters and pillows without cases. Right down in one corner +was an old wooden cradle with the prettiest little black haired baby +in the world sleeping in it! At least, so Agnes declared. + +Mrs. Maroni was delighted with the girls’ evident admiration for the +baby. She could tell them by signs and broken words, too, that the +baby was now better and the doctor had told her to take it out into +the air and sunshine all day. She could trust some of the older +children with it; Maria was big enough to help at the stand. _She_ had +the housework to do. + +The Italian woman led the way to her other apartment—if such it could +be called. The rear cellar had two little, high windows looking into a +dim little yard. They had no right to the yard. That belonged to the +tenants above, and Ruth could see very well that the yard would be the +better for a thorough cleaning-up. + +“Perhaps Mr. Howbridge will say we have no right to interfere,” +thought the oldest of the Corner House girls. “But I’m just going to +tell him what I think of this place.” + +The cellar was not so dirty, only it was _messy_. The Italians’ +possessions were of the cheapest quality, and they had scarcely a +decent chair to sit on. Whether it was poverty or a lack of knowledge +of better things, Ruth could not decide. + +The little Maria came close to her side and smiled at her. “You speak +English all right, don’t you?” asked Ruth. + +“Oh, yes, Ma’am. I go to school,” said Maria. + +“Do you know the lady who has the store up stairs?” + +The little girl’s face clouded. “Yes, Ma’am. I guess she’s a nice +German lady, but she is _so_ cross.” + +“I do not think she’d be cross with you if she saw you in a clean +dress and with your face and hands washed,” said Ruth, with a sudden +idea. “If you will make yourself tidy, I will take you up stairs with +me, and we can call on Mrs. Kranz.” + +The child’s face brightened in a flash. She said something to her +mother, who replied in kind. Maria ran behind a curtain that hung in +one corner, and just then Joe came down. + +“You want-a me to feex up, Padrona?” he asked. “I no ask nottin’ since +w’en I come here. De walls much dirt’—eh?” + +“If they were whitewashed I think it would be ever so nice and clean,” +declared Ruth. “I shall speak to Mr. Howbridge and see if I can get +him to supply the whitewash. Will you put it on?” + +“But surely—si! si!” exclaimed the man. “I lik-a have nice place. I +keep good-a fruit—good-a vegetable. Da wife, she clean an’ +scr-r-rub—oh, yes! But poor man live in da cellar not lik-a da reech +dat live in da fine house.” + +Ruth sighed. With such little experience as she had had, she knew the +man’s words to be true. The Kenways had lived among poor people +themselves and knew how hard it was to keep an old tumble-down +tenement in nice order. + +Maria came dancing out in what was evidently her gala frock. It was +pretty and neatly made, too. She ran to the sink and washed her face +and hands. Then she came to Ruth for her approval. + +“You’re a pretty girl,” said Ruth, kissing her. “You can help a lot, +too, by keeping your brothers and sisters clean.” + +“Oh, yes, Ma’am! I make them wash up every day before they go to +school. But there is no school now,” said Maria. + +The visitors went out of the cellar with Maria. The other children +eyed them curiously, but smilingly. Poverty set well upon these +Italians, for they smiled at it! + +“Now we shall go in and see Mrs. Kranz,” said Ruth to Agnes. “Goodness +only knows what she will say to us. Come, Maria,” and she took the +little girl’s hand. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +FIVE CENTS’ WORTH OF PEPPERMINTS + + +“Vell! vell!” was the German lady’s greeting when the girls entered +the shop. “You gome quick back to see me already, eh? I am glad.” + +She came forward and kissed Agnes and then Ruth. But she halted as she +was about to stoop to Maria. + +“Ach! this is nefer von of de kinder I saw yesterday?” she cried. + +“Don’t you know this little girl, Mrs. Kranz?” asked Ruth, smiling. +“This is Maria Maroni.” + +“Ach! I nefer did!” exclaimed Mrs. Kranz, using an expression that she +must have picked up from her American neighbors. “Vell! I lofe _clean_ +kinder,” and she delivered a resounding kiss upon Maria’s darkly +flushed cheek. “Undt how pretty she iss.” + +“I am sure she is quite as good as she is pretty,” said Ruth, smiling. +“You ought to have just such a little girl as Maria to help you, Mrs. +Kranz.” + +“Ach! I would lofe to have such a girl,” declared the good lady. “Come +you all right back to mine poller. Iky! ’tend to the store yet,” she +shouted to a lanky youth lounging on the sidewalk. + +“He vill eat up all mine dried apples, yet, undt trink soda-pop, if I +don’t vatch him. Some day dot Iky iss goin’ to svell right up undt +bust! But he lifs up stairs undt his mutter iss a hard vorkin’ vidow.” + +“As though _that_ excused Iky for stuffing himself with dried apples,” +whispered Agnes to Ruth. Ruth looked at her admonishingly and Agnes +subsided. + +Mrs. Kranz bustled about to put coffee-cake and other toothsome +dainties, beside bottles of lemon-soda, before the three visitors. She +treated Maria just as nicely as she did Ruth and Agnes. Ruth had not +been mistaken in her judgment of Mrs. Kranz. She _had_ to own such a +big body to hold her heart! + +Ruth told her how they had talked with Maroni and how he had agreed to +clean up the cellar, and get rid of the decayed vegetables daily. But +it was, without doubt, Maria’s improved appearance, more than anything +else, that thawed the good lady. + +“Ach! it iss de way de vorld iss made,” sighed Mrs. Kranz. “That Joe +Maroni, he hass six kinder; I haf none. This mädchen, she shall help +me in de house, undt in de store. I buy her plenty clean dresses. I’ll +talk to that Joe. Ven I am madt mit him I can’t talk, for he smile, +an’ smile——Ach! how can I fight mit a man dot smiles all de time?” + +The two older Kenway girls started home feeling that they had +accomplished something worth while at the Meadow Street tenement +house. “Only,” said Ruth, “if we really had the right to do so, I can +see that there are a lot of repairs that would make the house more +comfortable for the tenants.” + +“And I suppose if Uncle Peter had thought of the comfort of the +tenants, he would never have made so much money out of the houses,” +observed Agnes, with more thought than she usually displayed. + +Just then Joe and Maria came hurrying down the block after them. “No, +Padrona!” cried the man. “You would not r-r-refuse Joe’s poor litla +present? Maria shall carry eet for you—si! si! She is a smart +girl—no? She fin’ her way all over town.” + +They thanked Maroni for the basket of fruit, and allowed Maria to +carry it to the Corner House, for that gave her pleasure, too, Ruth +could see. + +It gave them an opportunity of introducing Maria Maroni to Tess and +Dot. The younger Kenways were very glad to see her, and Maria was made +acquainted with the garden playhouse and with the rows of dolls. + +“I don’t care so much because the Creamer girls won’t play with us,” +said Tess, happily, after Maria had run home. “Alfredia and Maria are +both very nice little girls.” + +“Yes, indeed,” said Dot, quickly. But she added, after a moment: “And +they can’t either of them help being so awful dark complected!” + +It had begun to bother Ruth, however, if it did none of the other +three, that so few people called on them. Of course, the Kenways had +not been in Milton but four weeks. The people they met at church, +however, and the girls they had become acquainted with at Sunday +School, had not called upon them. + +Eva Larry was delighted to see Agnes on the street, and had taken her +home one day with her. Myra Stetson was always jolly and pleasant, but +no urging by Agnes could get either of these nice girls to visit the +old Corner House. + +“Do you suppose it is the ghost of the garret that keeps them away?” +demanded Agnes, of Ruth. + +“We wouldn’t entertain them in the garret,” responded Ruth, laughing. +Only she did not feel like laughing. “If that is the trouble, however, +we’ll soon finish up cleaning out the garret. And we’ll sweep out the +ghost and all his tribe, too.” + +A Saturday intervened before this could be accomplished, however. It +was the first Saturday after Mr. Howbridge had bestowed upon the +Corner House girls their monthly allowance. + +After the house was spick and span, and the children’s playthings put +away for over Sunday, and the garden (which was now a trim and +promising plot) made particularly neat, the four girls dressed in +their very best and sallied forth. It was after mid-afternoon and the +shoppers along Main Street were plentiful. + +Aunt Sarah never went out except to church on Sunday. Now that the +weather was so warm, the big front door stood open a part of the time, +and the girls sat with their sewing and books upon the wide porch. +Mrs. McCall joined them there; but Aunt Sarah, never. + +Because she did not go out, anything Aunt Sarah needed was purchased +by one of the girls. Particularly, Ruth never forgot the peppermints +which were bought as regularly now that they lived in the Corner House +as they were bought in the old days, back in Bloomingsburg. + +Sometimes Ruth delegated one of the other girls to buy the +peppermints, but on this particular occasion she chanced to find +herself near the candy counter, when she was separated from Agnes in +Blachstein & Mapes. So she purchased the usual five cents’ worth of +Aunt Sarah’s favorite Sunday “comfort.” + +“No matter how dry the sermon is, or how long-winded the preacher, I +can stand it, if I’ve got a pep’mint to chew on,” the strange old lady +once said. That was almost as long a sentence as the girls had ever +heard her speak! + +With the peppermints safe in her bag, Ruth hunted again for Agnes. But +the latter had those shoe-buckles on her mind and, forgetting Ruth, +she left the big store and made for the shoeshop. + +On the way Agnes passed the Lady’s Shop with its tempting display in +the show-window, and she ventured in. There were those lovely +handkerchiefs! Agnes feasted her eyes but she could not gain the +courage to break one of her dollar bills for the trifle. + +So she wandered out and went toward the glittering buckles in the +shoeshop window. And there she hesitated again. Fifty cents! A quarter +of her entire monthly allowance. She wanted to find Eva Larry, who +would be down town, too, and treat her to a sundae. Besides, she must +buy Myra Stetson some little remembrance. + +“I know what I’ll do!” thought Agnes finally, her eye suddenly +lighting upon a candy store across Main Street. “I can break one of +these bills by getting Aunt Sarah’s peppermints. Then it won’t seem so +hard to spend the change.” + +Agnes tripped over the crosswalk and purchased the little bag of +peppermints. These she popped into her own handbag, and a little later +came across Eva. They went into the drug store on the corner and had a +sundae apiece. Agnes bought some hairpins (which she certainly could +not use) and a comb, and some lovely ribbon, and a cunning little red +strawberry emery-bag for her sewing-box, and several other trifles. +She found all her change gone and nothing but the dollar bill left in +her purse. That scared Agnes, and she ran home, refusing to break the +remaining bill, and much troubled that she should have been so +reckless in her expenditures the very first time she was out. + +Tess and Dot had gone together. There was no reason why two girls, of +eight and ten respectively, should not shop on Milton’s Main Street. +The younger Kenway girls had often shopped for Ruth, while they lived +in Bloomingsburg. + +The Five and Ten Cent Store attracted them. There was a toy +department, and all kinds of cheap fancy goods, and little things for +presents. Tess roamed among these, using her eyes to good advantage, +save that she forgot to look for Dot, after a time. + +There was a very cute little spool holder for ten cents, and Tess +bought that for Mrs. McCall. Uncle Rufus she remembered in the +purchase of a red and black tie for “state and date” occasions. She +bought a pretty ruching for Ruth’s collar, and a new thimble for +Agnes, because Agnes was always losing her silver one. + +For Dot, Tess bought a tiny doll’s tea-set, and forgetting herself +entirely, Tess wandered out of the store with her bundles, looking for +her sister. She did not at once see Dot, but a boy was selling cheap +candies from a basket, and Tess was smitten with the thought that she +had forgotten Aunt Sarah! + +She bought a bag of white peppermint drops in a hurry. That took all +of Tess’ half dollar, and she did not want to break into the bill; so +she went home without satisfying any of her own personal longings. + +Dot had found the candy counter in the big store the first thing. +There were heaps, and heaps of goodies. Dot possessed a sweet tooth, +and she had never really had enough candy at one time in her life—not +even at Christmas. + +Some of this candy was ten cents a pound, and some ten cents a quarter +of a pound. Dot knew that if she bought the more expensive kind, her +dollar bill would not go far. And she really did not want to spend all +her month’s money just for candy. Ruth would think her extravagant and +Agnes would laugh at her. + +The little girl moved along in front of the counter, feasting her eyes +upon the variegated sweets. There were chocolates, and bonbons, and +nut candies, and “kisses,” and many candies of which Dot did not know +even the names. Finally she came to the end, where the cheaper kinds +were displayed. + +Dot’s eyes grew round and she uttered a half-stifled “Oh!” There was a +great heap of luscious looking, fat peppermint drops. They looked to +be so creamy and soft, that Dot was _sure_ they were far superior to +any drops that Aunt Sarah had ever had in the past. + +“Here, little girl,” said the lady behind the counter, seeing Dot +feasting her eyes upon the heap of peppermints. “Here’s a broken one,” +and she reached over the screen and passed Dot the crumbly bit of +candy. + +Dot thanked her nicely and popped the broken peppermint drop into her +mouth. It was every bit as nice as it looked. It was crumbly, and +creamy, and sweet, with just the right amount of peppermint essence in +it. + +“I’ll buy Aunt Sarah’s peppermints my own self,” decided Dot. Then she +hesitated, being an honest little thing. She knew that she could not +resist the temptation of those luscious drops, once they were in her +hands. + +“I’ll take _two_ quarter pounds, if you please, Ma’am,” she said to +the saleslady. “In two bags. One’s for my Aunt Sarah and the other’s +for Tess and me.” + +Having broken her dollar bill for these two bags of sweets, Dot felt +rather frightened, and she, too, hurried out of the store. + +The four Corner House girls arrived home at about the same time—and +not long before the usual dinner hour. Dot and Tess had tasted out of +the special bag of peppermint drops that Dot had bought, in the yard. +Tess had so many other things to show her smaller sister that neither +suspected the other’s possession of Aunt Sarah’s peppermints. + +Dot ran up to Aunt Sarah’s room as soon as she got inside the door. “I +got your pep’mint drops, Auntie!” she cried, plumping the bag into the +old lady’s lap. + +“Humph! Good child,” declared Aunt Sarah, and opened the bag +invitingly. “Have one?” + +“No-o, Ma’am,” said Dot, backing away. “I’ve been eating some out of +_my_ bag,” and she showed Aunt Sarah her other purchase. “Ruth says it +spoils your appetite to eat too much candy before dinner.” + +“Humph!” remarked Aunt Sarah. + +As Dot went down the stairway, Tess came dancing along from the +bathroom, with a fresh ribbon in her hair and her face and hands still +damp. “Oh, Aunt Sarah!” she cried, “here is your bag of peppermints +for to-morrow,” and she held up her own purchase. “Shall I put them in +your room on the bureau?” + +“Humph!” exclaimed the old lady, stopping and eyeing Tess curiously. +“So _you’ve_ got them?” + +“Yes, Ma’am,” said Tess, and hopped down stairs by the old lady’s side +very happily. + +There was a neat little box resting on the table beside Aunt Sarah’s +plate. Agnes said: “There’s your Sunday peppermints, Aunt Sarah. I got +them at the Unique candy store, and I guess they’re nice ones.” + +Aunt Sarah merely glared at her, and remained speechless. That was +nothing strange; the old lady sometimes acted as though she did not +hear you speak to her at all. + +Mrs. McCall came in from the kitchen and Ruth appeared from up stairs. +Uncle Rufus arrived with the steaming soup tureen. As Ruth sat down, +she said to Aunt Sarah: + +“You’ll find your peppermints on the hall stand, Aunt Sarah. I forgot +to bring them up to your room.” + +_That_ was too much. The old lady blazed up like a freshly kindled +fire. + +“For the good Land o’ Goshen! I got peppermints enough now to last me +four meetings. I believe getting your Uncle Peter’s money the way you +have, has made all you gals silly!” + +She refused to say another word to any of them that evening. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +“A DISH OF GOSSIP” + + +The seamstress came on Monday to the old Corner House. Mrs. McCall had +recommended her, and in Milton Miss Ann Titus was a person of +considerable importance. + +She was a maiden lady well past middle age, but, as she expressed it +herself, “more than middling spry.” She was, as well, a traveling free +information bureau. + +“Two things I am fond of, gals,” she said to Ruth and Agnes, the first +day. “A cup of tea, and a dish of gossip.” + +She was frank about the last named article of mental diet. She knew +that most of the people she worked for enjoyed her gossip as much as +they desired her needle-work. + +Ruth had opened and aired a room for her at the back of the house, and +there she was established with her cutting table and sewing machine. +She would not hear of remaining at night with them. + +“I got an old Tom-cat at home that would yowl his head off, if I +didn’t give him his supper, and his breakfast in the morning. He can +forage for himself at noon.” + +She lived in a tiny cottage not far from the old Corner House—the +girls had seen it. She had lived there most of her life, and she had a +tidy little sum in the savings-bank. Miss Ann Titus might have lived +without working at her trade. + +“But I sartain-sure should die of lonesomeness,” she declared. “A +cat’s well enough as far as he goes; but you can’t call him right +inspiritin’ company.” + +Ruth went to the big store where Mr. Howbridge had opened a charge +account for her and bought such goods as Miss Titus wanted. Then the +capable woman went to work to make up several summer and fall dresses +for the four girls. + +These were busy times at the old Corner House. The sewing room was a +scene of bustle and hurrying from morning to night. One or the other +of the girls seemed to be “trying-on” all the time. Ruth and Agnes, to +say nothing of Mrs. McCall, spent all their spare minutes helping the +dressmaker. + +“You young-uns have sartain-sure got pluck to come to this old place +to live,” Miss Titus declared on the second day. The wind was rising, +the shutters shook, and loose casements rattled. + +“It’s a very nice house, we think,” said Ruth. + +The smaller girls were not present, but Miss Titus lowered her voice: +“Ain’t you none afraid of what they say’s in the garret?” + +“What is in the garret?” asked Ruth, calmly. “We have cleaned it all +up, and have found nothing more dangerous than old clothes and +spiders. We play up there on rainy days.” + +“I wouldn’t do it for a farm!” gasped Miss Titus. + +“So you believe in that ghost story?” + +“Yes, I do. They say some man, ’way back before Peter Stower’s father +lived, hung himself up there.” + +“Oh!” cried Ruth. “How wicked it is to repeat such stories.” + +“I dunno. I can find you half a dozen good, honest folks, that have +seen the ghost at the garret window.” + +Ruth could not help shivering. She had begun to refuse to acknowledge +the evidence of her own eyes, and _that_ had helped. But Miss Titus +seemed so positive. + +“Is—is it because they are afraid of ghosts, that so few people have +come to call on us, do you suppose?” Ruth asked. + +The seamstress glanced at her through her spectacles. She had very +sharp eyes and she snipped off threads with a bite of her sharp teeth, +and stuck a sharp needle into her work in a very sharp manner. +Altogether, Miss Ann Titus was a very sharp person. + +“I shouldn’t wonder if there was another reason,” she said. “Ain’t the +minister’s wife been?” + +“Oh, yes. And we think she is lovely. But not many of the girls we +meet at church have called. I thought maybe they were afraid. The +house has had a bad name, because it was practically shut up so long.” + +“Yes,” agreed Miss Titus. “And Peter Stower acted funny, too. They say +_his_ ghost haunts it.” + +“How foolish!” said Ruth, flushing. “If people don’t want to come +because of _that_——” + +“Maybe there _is_ another reason,” said the gossip. + +“I’d like to know what it is!” demanded Ruth, determined to learn the +worst. And Miss Titus _did_ look so knowing and mysterious. + +“Well, now,” said Miss Titus, biting off another thread. “Speakin’ for +myself, I think you gals are just about right, and Mr. Howbridge did +the right thing to put you into Peter’s house. But there’s them that +thinks different.” + +“What _do_ you mean?” begged the puzzled Ruth. + +“There’s been a deal of talk. Mr. Howbridge is blamed. They say he did +it just to keep the property in his own hands. He must make a good +speck out of it.” + +“But you are puzzling me, more and more,” cried Ruth. “I suppose Mr. +Howbridge does not handle Uncle Peter’s estate for nothing. How could +he?” + +“Trust Howbridge for feathering his nest all right,” said the +seamstress, bitingly. “But that ain’t it. You see, there’s them that +believes other folks than you Kenway gals should have the old Corner +House and all that goes with it!” + +“Oh!” gasped Ruth. “You do not mean Aunt Sarah?” + +“Sally Maltby?” snapped Miss Titus. “Well, I should say _not_. She +ain’t got no rights here at all. Never did have. Never would have, if +Peter had had his way.” + +“I am sure _that_ is not so,” began Ruth. Then she stopped. She +realized that Miss Titus would carry everything she said to her next +customer. She did not know that either Mr. Howbridge, or Aunt Sarah, +would care to have the news bandied about that Uncle Peter had left +Aunt Sarah a legacy. + +“Well, you’re welcome to your own belief, Ruthie,” said Miss Titus, +curiously eyeing her. “But it ain’t Sally Maltby that folks are +talking about.” + +“Who can possibly have any right here?” queried Ruth. “Mr. Howbridge +declares there are no other heirs.” + +“He ain’t heard of ’em—or else he don’t want to acknowledge ’em,” +declared Miss Titus. “But these folks live at a distance. They’re +another branch of the Stower family, I reckon, and ’tis said that +they’ve got a better right than you gals.” + +“Oh!” gasped Ruth again. + +“That’s why folks don’t come to congratulate you, I reckon. They ain’t +sure that you’ll stay here long. Maybe them other relatives will come +on, or begin suit in the courts, or something. And the neighbors don’t +like to mix in, or take sides, until the matter’s straightened out.” + +“Oh, dear, me!” sighed Ruth. “We love staying here at the old Corner +House, but we never wished to take anybody’s rights away from them. +Mr. Howbridge assured us that we were the only heirs, and that the +estate would in time be settled upon us. It makes me feel very +badly—this news you tell me, Miss Titus.” + +“Well! let sleepin’ dogs lie, is _my_ motter,” declared the +seamstress. “You might as well enjoy what you got, while you got it.” + +If Ruth had been troubled before by the circumstances that had brought +her and her sisters to the old Corner House, she was much more +troubled now. Uncle Peter had made a will, she had been assured by Mr. +Howbridge, which left the bulk of the old man’s estate to the Kenway +girls; but that will was lost. If other claimants came forward, how +should Ruth and her sisters act toward them? + +That was Ruth’s secret trouble. Without the will to make their own +claim good, did not these other relatives Miss Titus had spoken of +have as good a right to shelter in the old Corner House, and a share +of the money left by Uncle Peter, as they had? + +Ruth could not talk about it with her sisters—not even with Agnes. +The latter would only be troubled, while Tess and Dot would not +understand the situation very well. And Aunt Sarah was no person in +whom to confide! + +Mr. Howbridge had gone away on business again. She had written him a +note to his office about Joe Maroni and Mrs. Kranz, and Mr. Howbridge +had sent back word—just before his departure on the sudden trip—that +she should use her own judgment about pacifying the tenants in the +Meadow Street houses. + +“You know that every dollar you spend on those old shacks reduces the +revenue from the property. You girls are the ones interested. Now, let +us test your judgment,” Mr. Howbridge had written. + +It put a great responsibility upon Ruth’s shoulders; but the girl of +sixteen had been bearing responsibilities for some years, and she was +not averse to accepting the lawyer’s test. + +“We want to help those Maronis,” she said to Agnes. “And we want Mrs. +Kranz to help them, too. We’ll just clean up that old house, and that +will help all the families in it.” + +She ordered the whitewashing materials, and Joe promised to whiten his +cellar. She hired the boy, Iky, and another, to clean the yard, too, +and paid them out of her own pocket. Mrs. Kranz smiled broadly, while +the Maronis considered “the litla Padrona” almost worthy to be their +patron saint! + +Ruth had begged Miss Titus to say nothing before Agnes or the little +girls regarding those possible claimants to Uncle Peter’s property. +She was very sorry Mr. Howbridge had gone away before she could see +him in reference to this gossip the seamstress had brought to the +house. + +It seemed that a certain Mrs. Bean, a friend of Miss Ann Titus, who +did not attend the First Church, but another, knew all about the +people who claimed relationship with Uncle Peter Stower. Ruth was +sorely tempted to call on Mrs. Bean, but then, she feared she had no +business to do so, until she had talked with the lawyer. + +Mr. Howbridge had given her a free hand in many things, but this +matter was too important, it seemed to Ruth, for her to touch without +his permission. With the expectation of other claimants to the +property looming before her, Ruth was doubtful if she ought to go +ahead with the frocks for her sisters and herself, or to increase +their bills at the stores. + +However, their guardian had already approved of these expenditures, +and Ruth tried to satisfy her conscience by curtailing the number of +her own frocks and changing the engagement of Miss Titus from three +weeks to a fortnight only. + +“I must confer with Mr. Howbridge first, before we go any farther,” +the girl thought. “Mercy! the bills for our living expenses here at +the old Corner House are mounting up enormously.” + +Agnes was so delighted over the frocks that were being made for her, +that she thought of little else, waking, and probably dreamed of them +in sleep, as well! She did not notice Ruth’s gravity and additional +thoughtfulness. + +As for Tess and Dot, they had their small heads quite full of their +own affairs. They were having a better time this summer than ever they +had dreamed of having in all their young lives. + +Tess and Dot were not without friends of their own age to play with, +in spite of the fact that the Creamer girls next door had proved so +unpleasant. There were two girls next door to Mrs. Adams who were +nice, and as Mrs. Adams promised, she arranged a little tea party for +Tess and Dot, and these other girls, one afternoon. The new friends +were Margaret and Holly Pease. + +Mrs. Adams had the tea on her back lawn in the shade of a big tulip +tree. She had just the sort of cakes girls like best, and strawberries +and cream, and the “cambric tea,” as Mrs. Adams called it, was rich +with cream and sugar. Mrs. Adams herself took a cup of tea that had +brewed much longer; she said she wanted it “strong enough to bite,” or +it did not give her a mite of comfort. + +From where the pleasant little party sat, they could look over the +fence into the big yard belonging to the Pease place. “Your folks,” +said Mrs. Adams to her next door neighbors, “are going to have a right +smart lot of cherries. That tree’s hanging full.” + +The tree in question was already aflame with the ripening fruit. +Margaret said: + +“Mother says we’ll have plenty of cherries to do up for once—if the +birds and the boys don’t do too much damage. There are two nests of +robins right in that one tree, and they think they own all the fruit. +And the boys!” + +“I expect that Sammy Pinkney has been around,” said Mrs. Adams. + +“There’s worse than him,” said Holly Pease, shaking her flaxen head. +“This morning papa chased an awfully ragged boy out of that tree. The +sun was scarcely up, and if it hadn’t been for the robins scolding so, +papa wouldn’t have known the boy was there.” + +“A robber boy!” cried Mrs. Adams. “I wager that’s who got my milk. I +set a two quart can out in the shed last night, because it was cool +there. And this morning more than half of the milk was gone. The +little rascal had used the can cover to drink out of.” + +“Oh!” said Tess, pityingly, “the poor boy must have been hungry.” + +“He’s probably something else by now,” said Mrs. Adams, grimly. “Half +ripe cherries and milk! My soul and body! Enough to snarl anybody’s +stomach up into a knot, but a boy’s. I guess boys can eat +anything—and recover.” + +Holly said, quietly: “There was a boy worked for Mrs. Hovey yesterday. +He was awfully hungry and ragged. I saw him carrying in wood from her +woodpile. And he just staggered, he was so small and weak. And his +hair looked so funny——” + +“What was the matter with his hair?” asked her sister. + +“It was red. Brick red. I never saw such red hair before.” + +“Oh!” cried Tess. “Did he have sure enough _red_ hair?” Then she +turned to Dot. “Do you s’pose it could be Tommy Rooney, Dot?” + +“Who’s Tommy Rooney?” asked Mrs. Adams. + +The Corner House girls told them all about Tommy, and how he had run +away from home, and why they half believed he had come here to Milton. + +“To shoot Indians!” exclaimed Mrs. Adams. “Whoever heard of such a +crazy notion? Mercy! boys get worse and worse, every day.” + +Perhaps it was because of this conversation that Tess and Dot at once +thought of Tommy on the way home that evening after the party, when +they saw a man and a dog chasing a small boy across Willow Street near +the old Corner House. + +“That’s Sammy Pinkney’s bulldog,” declared Tess, in fright. “And it’s +Sammy’s father, too.” + +The boy crawled over the high fence at the back of their garden and +got through the hedge. When the girls caught up with the man, Tess +asked: + +“Oh, sir! what is the matter?” + +“That young rascal has been in my strawberry patch again,” declared +Mr. Pinkney, wrathfully. He seemed to forget that he had a boy of his +own who was always up to mischief. “I’d like to wallop him.” + +“But the dog might have bit him,” said Dot, trembling, and drawing +away from the ugly looking animal. + +“Oh, no, little girl,” said Mr. Pinkney, more pleasantly. “Jock +wouldn’t bite anybody. He only scared him.” + +“Well, he _looks_ like he’d bite,” said Tess, doubtfully. “And he +scared our cat, Sandy-face, almost to death.” + +“Well, bulldogs always seem to think that cats are their enemies. I am +sorry he scared your cat, girls.” + +Tess and Dot hurried on to their gate. They looked for the boy in the +garden, but he was nowhere to be found. When they entered the house, +the back door was open and everybody seemed to be at the front. + +The two girls went immediately up the back stairs to the bathroom to +wash and make themselves tidy for dinner. + +“Where do you s’pose he went, Tess?” asked Dot, referring to the +strange boy. + +“I don’t know,” said Tess. Then she stopped to listen in the hall +outside the bathroom door. + +“What’s the matter, Tess?” demanded Dot, quickly. “Did you hear +something? Up the garret stairs?” + +“It sounded like the latch of the garret door,” said Tess. “But I +guess it was just the wind. Or maybe,” she added, laughing, “it was +your goat, Dot!” + +“Humph!” said the smaller girl, in disgust. “I know there isn’t any +old goat living up in that garret. That’s silly.” + +The girls thought no more about the odd noise at that time, but +hurried to join the rest of the family down stairs. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MORE MYSTERIES + + +Some of Miss Ann Titus’ gossip was not unkindly, and some of it amused +Ruth and Agnes very much. + +Miss Titus had known Aunt Sarah when they were both young girls and +what she told the Corner House girls about Miss Maltby, who had taken +the name of “Stower” of her own accord, satisfied much of the +curiosity the older Kenway girls felt regarding Aunt Sarah and her +affairs. + +“I remember when old Mr. Stower married Mrs. Maltby,” said the busy +Miss Titus, nodding vigorously as she snipped and talked at the same +time. “The goodness knows, Sally Maltby an’ her mother was as poor as +Job’s turkey—an’ they say _he_ was sartain-sure a lean fowl. It was +as great a change in their sarcumstances when they came to the ol’ +Corner House to live, as though they’d been translated straight to the +pearly gates—meanin’ no irreverence. + +“They was sartain-sure dirt poor. I dunno how Mis’ Maltby had the +heart to stand up an’ face the minister long enough for him to say the +words over ’em, her black bombazeen was that shabby! They had me here +with Ma Britton (I was ’prenticed to Ma Britton in them days) for +three solid months, a-makin’ both Mrs. Maltby-that-was, an’ Sally, fit +to be seen. + +“An’ how Sally _did_ turn her nose up, to be sure—to-be-sure! I +reckon she must ha’ soon got a crick in her neck, holdin’ it so stiff. +An’ to see her an’ hear her, you’d ha’ thought she owned the ol’ +Corner House. + +“They had sarvints here in them days, an’ ol’ Mr. Stower—he was still +in practice at the law—had lashin’s of company. I won’t say but that +Mrs. Maltby-that-was, made him a good wife, and sat at the foot of his +table, and poured tea out o’ that big solid silver urn like she’d been +to the manner born. But Sally was as sassy and perky as a nuthatch in +flytime. + +“We other gals couldn’t git along with her no-how. Me bein’ here so +much right at the first of it,” pursued Miss Titus, “sort o’ made me +an’ Sally intimate, as ye might say, whether we’d ever been so before, +or not. After Ma Britton got through her big job here Sally would +sometimes have to come around to our house—Ma Britton left me that +little cottage I live in—I ain’t ashamed to tell it—I hadn’t any +folks, an’ never had, I reckon. Like _Topsy_, I ‘jes’ growed.’ Well! +Sally would come around to see me, and she’d invite me to the old +Corner House here. + +“She never invited me here when there was any doin’s—no, Ma’am!” +exclaimed Miss Titus. “I wonder if she remembers them times now? She +sits so grim an’ lets me run on ha’f a day at a time, till I fairly +foam at the mouth ’ith talkin’ so much, an’ then mebbe all she’ll say +is: ‘Want your tea now, Ann?’ ’Nuff ter give one the fibbertygibbets! + +“In them days I speak of, she could talk a blue streak—sartain-sure! +And she’d tell me how many folks ‘we had to dinner’ last night; or how +‘Judge Perriton and Judge Mercer was both in for whist with us last +evening.’ Well! she strutted, and tossed her head, an’ bridled, till +one time there was an awful quarrel ’twixt her an’ Peter Stower. + +“I was here. I heard part of it. Peter Stower was a good bit older +than Sally Maltby as you gals may have heard. He objected to his +father’s marriage—not because Mrs. Maltby was who she was, but he +objected to anybody’s coming into the family. Peter was a born +miser—yes he was. He didn’t want to divide his father’s property +after the old man’s death, with anybody. + +“I will say for Peter,” added Miss Titus, “going off on a tangent” as +she would have said herself, had she been critically listening to any +other narrator. “I will say for Peter, that after your mother was +born, gals, he really seemed to warm up. I have seen him carrying your +mother, when she was a little tot, all about these big halls and +hummin’ to her like a bumblebee. + +“But even at that, he influenced his father so that only a small +legacy came to your mother when the old man died. Peter got most of +the property into his hands before _that_ happened, anyway. And quite +right, too, I s’pose, for by that time he had increased the estate a +whole lot by his own industry and foresight. + +“Well, now! I have got to runnin’ away with my story, ain’t I? It was +about Sally and that day she and Peter had their big quarrel. Whenever +Peter heard, or saw Sally giving herself airs, he’d put in an oar and +take her down a peg, now I tell you!” said Miss Titus, mixing her +metaphors most woefully. + +“I’d been to Sally’s room—it was a small one tucked away back here in +this ell, and _that_ hurt her like pizen! We was goin’ down stairs to +the front hall. Sally stops on the landing and points to the ceiling +overhead, what used to be painted all over with flowers and fat +cupids, and sech—done by a famous artist they used to say when the +house was built years before, but gettin’ faded and chipped then. + +“So Sally points to the ceilin’ an’ says she: + +“‘I hope some day,’ says she, ‘that we will have that painting +restored. _I_ mean to, I am sure, when I am in a better position to +have my views carried out here.’ + +“Of course, she didn’t mean nothin’—just showin’ off in front of me,” +said Miss Titus, shaking her head and biting at a thread in her queer +fashion. “But right behind us on the stairs was Peter. We didn’t know +he was there. + +“‘Wal,’ says he, drawlin’ in that nasty, sarcastic way he had, ‘if you +wait till your views air carried out in _this_ house, Sal Maltby, +it’ll be never—you hear me! I guarantee,’ sez Peter, ‘that they’ll +carry _you_ out, feet fust, before they carry out your idees.’ + +“My! she turns on him like a tiger-cat. Yes, Ma’am! Sartain-sure I +thought she was going to fly at him, tooth an’ toe-nail! But Peter had +a temper like ice-water, an’ ice-water—nuff of it, anyway—will put +out fire ev’ry time. + +“He just listened to her rave, he standin’ there so cold an’ +sarcastic. She told him how she was going to live longer than he did, +anyway, and that in the end she’d have her way in the old Corner House +in spite of him! + +“When she had sort of run-down like, Peter says to her: ‘Brag’s a good +dog, but Holdfast’s a better,’ sez he. ‘It ain’t people that talks +gits what they want in this world. If I was you, Sal Maltby, I’d learn +to hold my teeth on my tongue. It’ll git you farther.’ + +“And I b’lieve,” concluded Miss Titus, “that just then was the time +when Sally Maltby begun to get tongue-tied. For you might’s well call +her that. I know I never heard her ‘blow,’ myself, after that quarrel; +and gradually she got to be just the funny, silent, grim sort o’ +person she is. Fact is—an’ I admit it—Sally gives _me_ the shivers +oncet in a while.” + +Tess and Dorothy did not always play in the garden, not even when the +weather was fair. There must be variety to make even play appealing, +although the dolls were all “at home” in the out-of-door playhouse. +Dot and Tess must go visiting with their children once in a while. + +They had a big room for their sleeping chamber and sometimes they +came, with a selection of the dolls, and “visited” in the house. Being +allowed to play in the bedroom, as long as they “tidied up” after the +play was over, Tess and Dot did so. + +Ruth had strictly forbidden them going to the garret to play, unless +she went along. The excuse Ruth gave for this order was, that in the +garret the smaller girls were too far away from the rest of the +family. + +Tess and Dot, the morning after Mrs. Adams had made them the tea +party, had a party for their dolls in the big bedroom. Tess set her +folding table with the best of the dolls’ china. There were peanut +butter sandwiches, and a sliced pickle, and a few creamed walnuts that +Ruth had bought at the Unique Candy Store and divided between the +younger girls. + +They sat the dolls about the table and went down to the kitchen for +milk and hot water for the “cambric tea,” as Mrs. Adams called the +beverage. When they came back Tess, who entered first, almost dropped +the pitcher of hot water. + +“My goodness me!” she ejaculated. + +“What’s the matter, Tessie?” asked Dot, toiling on behind with milk +and sugar. + +“Some—somebody’s taken our dolls’ luncheon. Oh, dear me!” + +“It can’t be!” cried Dot, springing forward and spilling the milk. +“Why! those walnut-creams! Oh, dear!” + +“They haven’t left a crumb,” wailed Tess. “Isn’t that just mean?” + +“Who’d ever do such a thing to us?” said Dot, her lip trembling. “It +_is_ mean.” + +“Why! it must be somebody in the house,” declared Tess, her wits +beginning to work. + +“Of course it wasn’t Mrs. McCall. She’s in the kitchen,” Dot declared. + +“Or Uncle Rufus. He’s in the garden.” + +“And Ruth wouldn’t do such a thing,” added Dot. + +“It couldn’t be Aunt Sarah,” said Tess, eliminating another of the +family group. + +“And I don’t think Miss Titus would do such a thing,” hesitated Dot. + +“Well!” said Tess. + +“Well!” echoed Dot. + +Both had come to the same and inevitable conclusion. There was but one +person left in the house to accuse. + +“Aggie’s been playing a joke on us,” both girls stated, with +conviction. + +But Agnes had played no joke. She had been out to the store for Mrs. +McCall at the time the children were in the kitchen. Besides, Agnes +“would not fib about it,” as Tess declared. + +The disappearance of the dolls’ feast joined hands, it seemed to Dot, +with that mysterious _something_ that she knew she had heard Ruth and +Agnes talking about at night, and which the younger girl had thought +referred to a goat in the garret. + +“It’s just the mysteriousest thing,” she began, speaking to Tess, when +the latter suddenly exclaimed: + +“Sandy-face!” + +The mother cat was just coming out of the bigger girls’ bedroom. She +sat down at the head of the main flight of stairs and calmly washed +her face. Sandy-face had the run of the house and her presence was +driving out the mice, who had previously gnawed at their pleasure +behind the wainscoting. + +“You—you don’t suppose Sandy-face did that?” gasped Dot. + +“Who else?” asked Tess. + +“All of those walnuts?” said Dot, in horror. “And those sandwiches? +And not leave a crumb on the plates?” + +“She looks just as though she had,” determined Tess. + +“You—you are an awful bad cat, Sandy-face,” said Dot, almost in +tears. “And I just hope those walnuts will disagree with your +stomach—so now!” + +Tess was quite angry with the cat herself. She stamped her foot and +cried “Shoo!” Sandy-face leaped away, surprised by such attentions, +and scrambled up stairs in a hurry. Almost at once the two girls heard +her utter a surprised yowl, and down she came from the garret, her +tail as large as three tails, her eyes like saucers, and every +indication of panic in her movements. + +She shot away for the back stairs, and so down to the hall and out of +doors. + +“I don’t care,” exclaimed Dot. “I know those walnuts are disagreeing +with her right now, and I’m glad. My! but she was punished soon for +her greediness, wasn’t she, Tess?” + +There was something going on at the Creamer cottage, next door to the +old Corner House. Tess and Dot became aware of this fact at about this +time, so did not bother their heads much about Sandy’s supposed +gluttony. Some of the windows on the second floor of the cottage were +darkened, and every morning a closed carriage stopped before the house +and a man went in with a black bag in his hand. + +Tess and Dot were soon wondering what could be happening to the little +Creamer girls. The only one they saw was the curly haired one, who had +spoken so unpleasantly to them on a particular occasion. They saw her +wandering about the yard, and knew that she did not play, and was +often crying by herself behind the clumps of bushes. + +So Tess, whose heart was opened immediately to any suffering thing, +ventured near the picket fence again, and at last spoke to the Creamer +girl. + +“What’s the matter, please?” Tess asked. “Did you lose anything? Can +we help you find it?” + +The curly headed girl looked at her in surprise. Her pretty face was +all streaked with tears. + +“You—you want to keep away from me!” she blurted out. + +“Oh, dear, me!” said Tess, clinging to Dot’s hand. “I didn’t mean to +offend you again.” + +“Well, you’ll catch it, maybe,” sniffled the Creamer girl, whose name +was Mabel. + +“Catch what?” asked Tess. + +“Something dreadful. All my sisters have it.” + +“Goodness!” breathed Dot. + +“What is it?” asked Tess, bravely standing her ground. + +“It’s _quarantine_,” declared Mabel Creamer, solemnly. “And I have to +sleep in the library, and I can’t go up stairs. Neither does pop. And +mamma never comes down stairs at all. And I have to play alone here in +the yard,” sighed Mabel. “It’s just awful!” + +“I should think it was,” gasped Tess. “Then, that must be a doctor +that comes to your house every day?” + +“Yes. And he is real mean. He won’t let me see mamma—only she comes +to the top of the stairs and I have to stay at the bottom. +Quarantine’s a _nawful_ thing to have in the house. + +“So you’d better stand farther off from that fence. I was real mean to +you girls once, and I’m sorry enough now. But I hadn’t ought to play +with you, for maybe _I’ll_ have the quarantine, too, and I’ll give it +to you if you come too close.” + +“But we can play games together without coming too near,” said Tess, +her kind heart desiring to help their neighbor. “We’ll play keep +house—and there’ll be a river between us—and we can talk over a +telephone—and all that.” And soon the three little girls were playing +a satisfying game together and Mabel’s tears were dried and her heart +comforted for the time being. + +That night at dinner, however, Dot waxed curious. “Is quarantine a +very bad disease? Do folks die of it?” she asked. + +So the story came out, and the older girls laughed at the young one’s +mistake. It was learned that all the Creamer children save Mabel had +the measles. + +Ruth, however, was more puzzled about the novelty of a cat eating +peanut butter and walnut creams than Dot had been about that wonderful +disease, “quarantine.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +“MRS. TROUBLE” + + +“You girls go through this pantry,” complained Mrs. McCall, “like the +plague of locusts. There isn’t a doughnut left. Nor a sugar cookie. I +managed to save some of the seed-cakes for tea, if you should have +company, by hiding them away. + +“I honestly thought I made four apple pies on Monday; I can’t account +but for three of them. A hearty appetite is a good gift; but I should +suggest more bread and butter between meals, and less sweets.” + +Ruth took the matter up with the Corner House girls in convention +assembled: + +“Here it is only Thursday, and practically all the week’s baking is +gone. We must restrain ourselves, children. Remember how it used to be +a real event, when we could bake a raisin cake on Saturday? We have no +right to indulge our tastes for sweets, as Mrs. McCall says. Who +knows? We may have to go back to the hard fare of Bloomingsburg again, +sometime.” + +“Oh, never!” cried Agnes, in alarm. + +“You don’t mean that, sister?” asked Tess, worried. + +“Then we’d better eat all the good things we can, now,” Dot, the +modern philosopher, declared. + +“You don’t mean that, Ruth,” said Agnes, repeating Tess’ words. “There +is no doubt but that Uncle Peter meant us to have this house and all +his money, and we’ll have it for good.” + +“Not for bad, I hope, at any rate,” sighed Ruth. “But we must mind +what Mrs. McCall says about putting our hands in the cookie jars.” + +“But, if we get hungry?” Agnes declared. + +“Then bread and butter will taste good to us,” finished Ruth. + +“I am sure I haven’t been at the cookie jar any more than usual this +week,” the twelve-year-old said. + +“Nor me,” Tess added. + +“Maybe Sandy did it,” suggested Dot. “She ate up all the dolls’ +dinner—greedy thing!” + +Agnes was puzzled. She said to the oldest Corner House girl when the +little ones were out of earshot: + +“I wonder if it _was_ that cat that ate the dolls’ feast yesterday?” + +“How else could it have disappeared?” demanded Ruth. + +“But a cat eating cream walnuts!” + +“I don’t know,” said Ruth. “But of course, it wasn’t Sandy-face that +has been dipping into the cookie jars. We must be good, Agnes. I tell +you that we may be down to short commons again, as we used to be in +Bloomingsburg. We must be careful.” + +Just why Ruth seemed to wish to economize, Agnes could not understand. +Her older sister puzzled Agnes. Instead of taking the good things that +had come into their lives here at the old Corner House with joy, Ruth +seemed to be more than ever worried. At least, Agnes was sure that +Ruth smiled even less frequently than had been her wont. + +When Ruth chanced to be alone with Miss Titus, instead of her mind +being fixed upon dressmaking details, she was striving to gather from +the seamstress more particulars of those strange claimants to Uncle +Peter’s estate. + +Not that Miss Titus had much to tell. She had only surmises to offer. +Mrs. Bean, though claiming to know the people very well, had told the +spinster lady very little about them. + +“Their names is Treble, I understand,” said Miss Titus. “I never heard +of no family of Trebles living in Milton here—no, Ma’am! But you +can’t tell. Folks claiming relationship always turn up awful +unexpected where there’s money to be divided.” + +“Mother was only half sister to Uncle Peter,” said Ruth, reflectively. +“But Uncle Peter was never married.” + +“Not as anybody in Milton ever heard on,” admitted Miss Titus. + +“Do you suppose Aunt Sarah would know who these people are?” queried +Ruth. + +“You can just take it from me,” said Miss Titus, briskly, “that Sally +Maltby never knew much about Peter’s private affairs. Never half as +much as she claimed to know, and not a quarter of what she’d _liked_ +to have known! + +“That’s why she had to get out of the old Corner House——” + +“Did she _have_ to?” interrupted Ruth, quickly. + +“Yes, she did,” said the seamstress, nodding confidently. “Although +old Mr. Stower promised her mother she should have shelter here as +long as Sally lived, he died without making a will. Mrs. +Maltby-that-was, died first. So there wasn’t any legal claim Sally +Maltby could make. She stayed here only by Peter’s sufferance, and she +couldn’t be content. + +“Sally learned only one lesson—that of keeping her tongue between her +teeth,” pursued Miss Titus. “Peter declared she was always snooping +around, and watching and listening. Sally always was a stubborn thing, +and she had got it into her head that she had rights here—which of +course, she never had. + +“So finally Peter forbade her coming into the front part of the house +at all; then she went to live with your folks, and Peter washed his +hands of her. I expect, like all misers, Peter wanted to hide things +about the old house and didn’t want to be watched. Do you know if +Howbridge found much of the old man’s hidings?” + +“I do not know about that,” said Ruth, smiling. “But Uncle Rufus +thinks Uncle Peter used to hide things away in the garret.” + +“In the garret?” cried Miss Titus, shrilly. “Well, then! they’d stay +there for all of me. I wouldn’t hunt up there for a pot of gold!” + +Nor would Ruth—for she did not expect any such hoard as that had been +hidden away in the garret by Uncle Peter. She often looked curiously +at Aunt Sarah, however, when she sat with the old lady, tempted to ask +her point-blank what she knew about Uncle Peter’s secrets. + +When a person is as silent as Aunt Sarah habitually was, it is only +natural to surmise that the silent one may have much to tell. Ruth had +not the courage, however, to advance the subject. She, like her +younger sisters, stood in no little awe of grim Aunt Sarah. + +Mr. Howbridge remained away and Miss Titus completed such work as Ruth +dared have done, and removed her machine and cutting table from the +old Corner House. The days passed for the Kenway girls in cheerful +occupations and such simple pleasures as they had been used to all +their lives. + +Agnes would, as she frankly said, have been glad to “make a splurge.” +She begged to give a party to the few girls they had met but Ruth +would not listen to any such thing. + +“I think it’s mean!” Aggie complained. “We want to get folks to coming +here. If they think the old house is haunted, we want to prove to them +that it is haunted only by the Spirit of Hospitality.” + +“Very fine! very fine!” laughed Ruth. “But we shall have to wait for +that, until we are more secure in our footing here.” + +“‘More secure!’” repeated Agnes. “When will that ever be? I don’t +believe Mr. Howbridge will ever find Uncle Peter’s will. I’d like to +hunt myself for it.” + +“And perhaps _that_ might not be a bad idea,” sighed Ruth, to herself. +“Perhaps we ought to search the old house from cellar to garret for +Uncle Peter’s hidden papers.” + +Something happened, however, before she could carry out this +half-formed intention. Tess and Dot had gone down Main Street on an +errand for Ruth. Coming back toward the old Corner House, they saw +before them a tall, dark lady, dressed in a long summer mantle, a lace +bonnet, and other bits of finery that marked her as different from the +ordinary Milton matron doing her morning’s marketing. She had a little +girl with her. + +“I never saw those folks before,” said Dot to Tess. + +“No. They must be strangers. That little girl is wearing a pretty +dress, isn’t she?” + +Tess and Dot came abreast of the two. The little girl _was_ very +showily dressed. Her pink and white face was very angelic in its +expression—while in repose. But she chanced to look around and see +the Kenway girls looking at her, and instantly she stuck out her +tongue and made a face. + +“Oh, dear! She’s worse than that Mabel Creamer,” said Tess, and she +took Dot’s hand and would have hurried by, had the lady not stopped +them. + +“Little girls! little girls!” she said, commandingly. “Tell me where +the house is, in which Mr. Peter Stower lived. It is up this way +somewhere they told me at the station.” + +“Oh, yes, Ma’am,” said Tess, politely. “It is the old Corner +House—_our_ house.” + +“_Your_ house?” said the tall lady, sharply. “What do you mean by +that?” + +“We live there,” said Tess, bravely. “We are two of the Kenway girls. +Then there are Ruth and Agnes. And Aunt Sarah. We all live there.” + +“You reside in Mr. Peter Stower’s house?” said the lady, with +emphasis, and looking not at all pleasant, Tess thought. “How long +have you resided there?” + +“Ever since we came to Milton. We were Uncle Peter’s only relations, +so Mr. Howbridge came for us and put us in the house,” explained Tess, +gravely. + +“Mr. Stower’s only relatives?” repeated the lady, haughtily. “We will +see about _that_. You may lead on to the house. At least, I am sure we +have as much right there as a parcel of girls.” + +Tess and Dot were troubled, but they led the way. Agnes and Ruth were +on the big front porch sewing and they saw the procession enter the +gate. + +“Goodness me! who’s this coming?” asked Agnes, eyeing the dark lady +with startled curiosity. “Looks as though she owned the place.” + +“Oh, Agnes!” gasped Ruth, and sprang to her feet. She met the lady at +the steps. + +“Who are you?” asked the stranger, sourly. + +“I am Ruth Kenway. Did you—you wish to see me, Ma’am?” + +“I don’t care whom I see,” the lady answered decisively, marching +right up the steps and leading the angel-faced little girl by the +hand. “I want you to know that I am Mrs. Treble. Mrs. John Augustus +Treble. My daughter Lillie (stand straight, child!) and I, have been +living in Michigan. John Augustus has been dead five years. He was +blown up in a powder-mill explosion, so I can prove his death very +easily. So, when I heard that my husband’s uncle, Mr. Peter Stower, +was dead here in Milton, I decided to come on and get Lillie’s share +of the property.” + +“Oh!” murmured Ruth and Agnes, in chorus. + +“I am not sure that, as John Augustus Treble’s widow, my claims to the +estate do not come clearly ahead of _yours_. I understand that you +Kenway girls are merely here on sufferance, and that the ties of +relationship between you and Mr. Peter Stower are very scant indeed. +Of course, I suppose the courts will have to decide the matter, but +meanwhile you may show me to my room. I don’t care to pay a hotel +bill, and it looks to me as though there were plenty of rooms, and to +spare, in this ugly old house.” + +Ruth was left breathless. But Agnes was able to whisper in her +sister’s ear: + +“‘Mrs. Treble’ indeed! She looks to me, Ruth, a whole lot like ‘Mrs. +Trouble.’ What _shall_ we do?” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +RUTH DOES WHAT SHE THINKS IS RIGHT + + +Mrs. Treble, as the tall, dark lady called herself, had such an air of +assurance and command, that Ruth was at a loss what course to take +with her. Finally the oldest Kenway girl found voice to say: + +“Won’t you take one of these comfortable rockers, Mrs. Treble? Perhaps +we had better first talk the matter over a little.” + +“Well, I’m glad to sit down,” admitted Mrs. Treble. “Don’t muss your +dress, Lillie. We’ve been traveling some ways, as I tell you. Clean +from Ypsilanti. We came on from Cleveland Junction this morning, and +it’s a hot day. _Don’t_ rub your shoes together, Lillie.” + +“It _is_ very warm,” said Ruth, handing their visitor a fan and +sending Agnes for a glass of cold water from the icebox. + +“Then we’ve been to that lawyer’s office,” pursued Mrs. Treble. “What +do you call him—Howbridge? Don’t rub your hands on your skirt, +Lillie.” + +“Yes; Mr. Howbridge,” replied Ruth. + +“_Don’t_ take off that hat, Lillie. So we’ve been walking in the sun +some. That’s nice, cool water. Have some, Lillie? Don’t drip it on +your dress.” + +“Wouldn’t your little girl like to go with Tess and Dot to the +playhouse in the garden?” Ruth suggested. “Then we can talk.” + +“Why—yes,” said Mrs. Treble. “Go with the little girls, Lillie. Don’t +you get a speck of dirt on you, Lillie.” + +Ruth did not see the awful face the much admonished Lillie made, as +she left her mother’s side. It amazed Tess and Dot so that they could +not speak. Her tongue went into her cheek, and she drew down the +corners of her mouth and rolled her eyes, leering so terribly, that +for an instant she looked like nothing human. Then she resumed the +placidity of her angelic expression, and minced along after the +younger Kenway girls, and out of sight around a corner of the house. + +Meanwhile, Agnes had drawn Ruth aside, and whispered: “What are you +going to do? She’s raving crazy, isn’t she? Had I better run for a +doctor—or the police?” + +“Sh!” admonished Ruth. “She is by no means crazy. I don’t know _what_ +to do!” + +“But she says she has a right to live here, too,” gasped Agnes. + +“Perhaps she has.” + +“Mr. Howbridge said we were Uncle Peter’s only heirs,” said Agnes, +doggedly. + +“May—maybe he didn’t know about this John Augustus Treble. We must +find out about it,” said Ruth, much worried. “Of course, we wouldn’t +want to keep anybody out of the property, if they had a better right +to it.” + +“_What?_” shrilled Agnes. “Give it up? Not—on—your—life!” + +In the meantime, Tess and Dot scarcely knew how to talk to Lillie +Treble. She was such a strange girl! They had never seen anybody at +all like her before. + +Lillie walked around the house, out of her mother’s sight, just as +mincingly as a peacock struts. Her look of angelic sweetness would +have misled anybody. She just looked as though she had never done a +single wrong thing in all her sweet young life! + +But Tess and Dot quickly found that Lillie Treble was not at all the +perfect creature she appeared to the casual observer. Her angelic +sweetness was all a sham. Away from her mother’s sharp eye, Lillie +displayed very quickly her true colors. + +“Those all your dolls?” she demanded, when she was shown the +collection of Tess and Dot in the garden house. + +“Yes,” said Tess. + +“Well, my mother says we’re going to stay here, and if you want me to +play with you,” said this infantile socialist, “we might as well +divide them up right now.” + +“Oh!” gasped Tess. + +“I’ll take a third of them. They can be easily divided. I choose +_this_ one to begin with,” said Lillie, diving for the Alice-doll. + +With a shriek of alarm, Dot rescued this—her choicest possession—and +stood on the defensive, the Alice-doll clasped close to her breast. + +“No! you can’t have that,” said Tess, decidedly. + +“Why not?” demanded Lillie. + +“Why—it’s the doll Dot loves the best.” + +“Well,” said Lillie, calmly, “I suppose if I chose one of _yours_, +you’d holler, too. I never did see such selfish girls. Huh! if I can’t +have the dolls I want, I won’t choose any. I don’t want to play with +the old things, anyway!” and she made a most dreadful face at the +Kenway sisters. + +“Oh-oh!” whispered Dot. “I don’t like her at all.” + +“Well, I suppose we must amuse her,” said Tess, strong for duty. + +“But she says she is going to stay here all the time,” pursued the +troubled Dot, as Lillie wandered off toward the foot of the garden. + +“I don’t believe that can be so,” said Tess, faintly. “But it’s our +duty to entertain her, while she _is_ here.” + +“I don’t see why we should. She’s not a nice girl at all,” Dot +objected. + +“Dot! you know very well Ruth wants us to look out for her,” Tess +said, with emphasis. “We can’t get out of it.” + +So the younger girl, over-ruled by Tess, followed on. At the foot of +the garden, Lillie caught sight of Ruth’s flock of hens. Uncle Rufus +had repaired the henhouse and run, and Ruth had bought in the market a +dozen hens and a rooster of the white Plymouth Rock breed. Mr. Rooster +strutted around the enclosure very proudly with his family. They were +all very tame, for the children made pets of them. + +“Don’t you ever let them out?” asked Lillie, peering through the +wire-screen. + +“No. Not now, Ruth says. They would get into the garden,” Tess +replied. + +“Huh! you could shoo them out again. I had a pet hen at Ypsilanti. I’d +rather have hens than dolls, anyway. The hens are alive,” and she +tried the gate entering upon the hen-run. + +“Oh!” exclaimed Tess. “You mustn’t let them out.” + +“Who’s letting them out?” demanded Lillie. + +“Well, then, you mustn’t go into the yard.” + +“Why not?” repeated the visitor. + +“Ruth won’t like it.” + +“Well, I guess my mother’s got more to say about this place than your +sister has. She says she’s going to show a parcel of girls how to run +this house, and run it right. That’s what she told Aunt Adeline and +Uncle Noah, when we went to live with them in Ypsilanti.” + +Thus speaking, Lillie opened the gate and walked into the poultry +yard. At once there was great excitement in the flock. Lillie plunged +at the nearest hen and missed her. The rooster uttered a startled and +admonitory “Cut! cut! ca-dar-cut!” and led the procession of +frightened hens about the yard. + +“Aren’t hens foolish?” demanded Lillie, calmly. “I am not going to +hurt her.” + +She made another dive for the hen. The rooster uttered another shriek +of warning and went through the watering-pan, flapping his wings like +mad. The water was spilled, and the next attempt Lillie made to seize +a hen, she was precipitated into the puddle! + +Both hands, one knee, and the front of her frock were immediately +streaked with mud. Lillie shrieked her anger, and plunged after the +frightened hens again. She was a determined girl. Tess and Dot added +their screams to the general hullabaloo. + +Round and round went the hens, led by the gallant rooster. Finally the +inevitable happened. Lillie got both hands upon one of the white hens. + +“Now I got you—silly!” shrieked Lillie. + +But she spoke too quickly and too confidently. It was only the +tail-feathers Lillie grabbed. With a wild squawk, the hen flew +straight away, leaving the bulk of her plumage in the naughty girl’s +hands! + +The girls outside the fence continued to scream, and so did the flock +of hens. The rooster, who was a heavy bird, came around the yard +again, on another lap, and wildly leaped upon Lillie’s back. + +He scrambled over her, his great spurs and claws tearing her frock, +and his wings beating her breathlessly to the ground. Just then Uncle +Rufus came hobbling along. + +“Glo-ree! who dat chile in dat hen-cage?” he demanded. “Dat ol’ +rooster’ll put her eyes out for her—dat he will!” + +He opened the gate, went in, and grabbed up Lillie Treble from the +ground. When he set her on her feet outside the fence, she was a sight +to behold! + +“Glo-ree!” gasped Uncle Rufus. “What you doin’ in dar, chile?” + +“Mind your own business!” exclaimed Lillie. “You’re only a black man. +I don’t have to mind _you_, I hope.” + +She was covered with mud and dust, and her frock was in great +disarray, but she was self-contained—and as saucy as ever. Tess and +Dot were horrified by her language. + +“I dunno who yo’ is, gal!” exclaimed Uncle Rufus. “But yo’ let Missie +Ruth’s chickens erlone, or I’ll see ter yuh, lak’ yer was one o’ my +own gran’chillen.” + +Lillie was sullen—and just a little frightened of Uncle Rufus. The +disaster made but slight impression upon her mind. + +“What—what will your mother say?” gasped Tess, when the three girls +were alone again. + +“She won’t say anything—till she sees me,” sniffed Lillie. And to put +that evil hour off, she began to inquire as to further possibilities +for action about the old Corner House. + +“What do you girls do?” she asked. + +“Why,” said Tess, “we play house; and play go visiting; and—and roll +hoop; and sometimes skip rope——” + +“Huh! that’s dreadful tame. Don’t you ever _do_ anything——Oh! +there’s my mother!” A window had opened in one of the wings of the big +house, on the second floor. It was a window of a room that the Kenway +family had not before used. Tess and Dot saw Ruth as well as Mrs. +Treble at the window. + +Ruth was doing what she thought was right. Mrs. Treble had confessed +to the oldest of the Corner House girls that she had arrived at Milton +with scarcely any money. She could not pay her board even at the very +cheapest hotel. Mr. Howbridge was away, Ruth knew, and nothing could +be done to straighten out this tangle in affairs until the lawyer came +back. + +So she had offered Mrs. Treble shelter for the present. Moreover, the +lady, with a confidence equaled only by Aunt Sarah’s, demanded in +quite a high and mighty way to be housed and fed. Yet she had calmed +down, and actually thanked Ruth for her hospitality, when she found +that the girl was not to be intimidated, but was acting the part of a +Good Samaritan from a sense of duty. + +Agnes was too angry for words. She could not understand why Ruth +should cater to this “Mrs. Trouble,” as she insisted, in secret, upon +calling the woman from Ypsilanti. + +Ruth was showing the visitor a nice room on the same floor with those +chambers occupied by the girls themselves, and Mrs. Treble was +approving, when she chanced to look out of the window and behold her +angelic Lillie in the condition related above. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +“DOUBLE TROUBLE” + + +“What is the meaning of that horrid condition of your clothing, +Lillie?” demanded Mrs. Treble from the open window. + +“I fell in the mud, Mamma,” said the unabashed Lillie, and glanced +aside at Tess and Dot with a sweetly troubled look, as though she +feared they were at fault for her disarray, but did not quite like to +say so! + +“Come up here at once!” commanded her mother, who turned to Ruth to +add: “I am afraid your sisters are very rough and rude in their play. +Lillie has not been used to such playmates. Of course, left without a +mother as they were, nothing better can be expected of them.” + +Meanwhile, Lillie had turned one of her frightful grimaces upon Tess +and Dot before starting for the house, and the smaller Kenway girls +were left frozen in their tracks by the ferocity of this parting +glare. + +Lillie appeared at luncheon dressed in some of Tess’ garments and some +of Dot’s—none of them fitting her very well. She had a sweetly +forgiving air, which bolstered up her mother’s opinion that Tess and +Dot were guilty of leading her angelic child astray. + +Mrs. Treble had two trunks at the railway station and Uncle Rufus was +sent to get an expressman to bring them up to the Corner House. Ruth +paid the expressman. + +“Talk about the _Old Man of the Sea_ that _Sinbad_ had to carry on his +shoulders!” scoffed Agnes, in private, to Ruth. “This Mrs. Trouble is +going to be a bigger burden for us than he was. And I believe that +girl is going to be ‘Double Trouble.’ She looks like butter wouldn’t +melt in her mouth. Uncle Rufus says she got in that messy condition +before lunch, chasing the hens out of their seven senses.” + +“There are only five senses, Aggie,” said Ruth, patiently. + +“Humph! that’s all right for folks, but hens have two more, I reckon,” +chuckled the younger girl. + +“Well,” said Ruth, “we must treat Mrs. Treble politely.” + +“You act as though you really thought they had some right to come here +and live on us,” cried Agnes. + +“Perhaps they have a right to some of Uncle Peter’s property. We don’t +know.” + +“I don’t believe it! She’s the sort of a person—that Mrs. +Trouble—who assumes rights wherever she goes.” + +Ruth had to confess that Mrs. Treble _was_ trying. She criticised Mrs. +McCall’s cooking and the quantity of food on the table at luncheon. +Lillie did not like dried apple pies, and said so bluntly, with a +hostile glare at the dessert in question. + +“Well, little girl,” said Mrs. McCall, “you’ll have to learn to like +them. I’ve just bought quite a lot of dried apples and they’ve got to +be eaten up.” + +Lillie made another awful face—but her mother did not see it. Dot was +so awe-stricken by these facial gymnastics of the strange girl that +she could scarcely eat, and watched Lillie continually. + +“That child ought to be cured of staring so,” remarked Mrs. Treble, +frowning at Dot. “Or is her eyesight bad?” + +Mrs. Treble was busy, after her trunks came, in unpacking them and +arranging her room to suit herself—as though she expected to make a +long visit. She had suggested appropriating Uncle Peter’s old bedroom +in the front of the house, but that suite of rooms was locked, and +Ruth refrained from telling her that _she_ had the keys. + +Meantime the bigger Corner House girls tried to help the smaller ones +entertain Lillie. Lillie was not like any normal girl whom they had +ever known. She wanted to do only things in which she could lead, and +if she was denied her way in any particular, she “wouldn’t play” and +threatened to go up stairs and tell her mother. + +“Why,” said Agnes, first to become exasperated. “You want to be the +whole show—including the drum-major at the head of the procession, +and the little boys following the clown’s donkey-cart at the end!” + +Lillie made a face. + +“I think,” said Ruth, quietly, “that if I were you, Lillie, and went +to visit, I’d try to make my new friends like me.” + +“Huh!” said Lillie. “I’m not visiting—don’t you fool yourselves. My +mother and I have come here to stay. We’re not going to be put out +like we were at Aunt Adeline’s and Uncle Noah’s. Mother says we’ve got +more right to this old house than you Kenways have, and she’s going to +get her rights.” + +That made Dot cry, and Tess looked dreadfully serious. Agnes was too +angry to play with the girl any more, and Ruth, even, gave her up as +impossible. Lillie wandered off by herself, for her mother would not +be bothered with her just then. + +When Mrs. McCall went out into the kitchen that afternoon to start +dinner, she missed the bag of dried apples that had been left on the +table. There had been nearly four pounds of them. + +“What under the canopy’s become of that bag?” demanded the good lady. +“This is getting too much, I declare. I _know_ I missed the end of the +corned beef yesterday, and half a loaf of bread. I couldn’t be sure +about the cookies and doughnuts, and the pie. + +“But there that bag of dried apples stood, and there it _isn’t_ now! +What do you know about such crazy actions?” she demanded of Ruth, who +had come at her call. + +“Why! it’s a mystery,” gasped the eldest of the Corner House girls. “I +can’t understand it, dear Mrs. McCall. Of course none of us girls have +taken the dried apples. And if you have missed other things from your +pantry of late, I am just as sure we are not at fault. I have warned +the girls about raiding the cookie jars between meals.” + +“Well,” said Mrs. McCall, with awe, “what can have taken them? And a +bag of dried apples! Goodness! It’s enough to give one the shivers and +shakes.” + +Ruth was deeply mystified, too. She knew very well that Sandy-face, +the cat, could not be accused with justice of this loss. Cats +certainly do not eat dried apples—and such a quantity! + +It began to rain before evening, and Tess and Dot rushed out to rescue +their dolls and other playthings, for there was wind with the rain and +they were afraid it would blow in upon their treasures. + +Here poor Dot received an awful shock. The Alice-doll was gone! + +Dot went in crying to Ruth and would not be comforted. She loved the +missing doll as though it was a real, live baby—there could be no +doubt of that. And why should a thief take that lovely doll only, and +leave all the others? + +Mysteries were piling upon mysteries! It was a gloomy night out of +doors and a gloomy night inside the old Corner House as well. Mrs. +Treble’s air and conversation were sufficient alone to make the Kenway +girls down-hearted. Dot cried herself to sleep that night, and not +even Agnes could comfort her. + +The wind howled around the house, and tried every latch and shutter +fastening. Ruth lay abed and wondered if the thing she had seen at the +window in the garret on that other windy day was now appearing and +vanishing in its spectral way? + +And what should she do about Mrs. Treble and her little girl? What +would Mr. Howbridge say when he came home again? + +Had she any right to spend more of the estate’s money in caring for +these two strangers who were (according to the lady herself) without +any means at all? Ruth Kenway put in two very bad hours that night, +before she finally fell asleep. + +The sun shone brightly in the morning, however. How much better the +world and all that is in it seems on a clean, sunshiny morning! Even +Dot was able to control her tears, as she went out upon the back porch +with Tess, before breakfast. + +The rain had saturated everything. The brown dirt path had been +scoured and then gullied by the hard downpour. Right at the corner of +the woodshed, where the water ran off in a cataract, when it _did_ +rain, was a funny looking mound. + +“Why—why! what’s that?” gasped Dot. + +“It looks just as though a poor little baby had been buried there,” +whispered Tess. “But of course, it isn’t! Maybe there’s some animal +trying to crawl out of the ground.” + +“O-o-o!” squealed Dot. “_What_ animal?” + +“I don’t know. Not a mole. Moles don’t make such a big hump in the +ground.” + +As the girls wondered, Uncle Rufus came up from the henhouse. He saw +the strange looking mound, too. + +“Glo-ree!” he gasped. “How come dat?” + +“We don’t know, Uncle Rufus,” said Tess eagerly. “We just found it.” + +“Somebody been buryin’ a dawg in we-uns back yard? My soul!” + +“Oh, it can’t be!” cried Tess. + +“And it isn’t Sandy-face,” Dot declared. “For she’s in the kitchen +with all her children.” + +“Wait er bit—wait er bit,” said the old man, solemnly. “Unc’ Rufus +gwine ter look inter dis yere matter. It sho’ is a misery”—meaning +“mystery.” + +He brought a shovel and dug down beside the mound. Lifting out a huge +shovelful of dirt, there were scattered all about the path a great +number of swollen and messy brown things that, for a moment, the girls +did not identify. Then Uncle Rufus lifted up his voice in a roar: + +“Looker yere! Looker yere! Missie Ruth! see wot you-all mak’ out o’ +disher monkey-shines. Here’s dem dried apples, buried in de groun’ and +swelled fit ter bust demselves.” + +[Illustration: “Looker yere! Looker yere! Missie Ruth! There +dem dried apples, buried in de groun’”] + +Mrs. McCall as well as the other girls came running to see. It was +Agnes that saw something else under the mound. She darted down the +steps, put her hand into the hole and drew out the Alice-doll! + +The poor thing’s dress was ruined. Its hair was a mass of plastered +apple, and its face as well. Such a disreputable looking thing! + +While the others cried out in wonder and disclaimed all knowledge of +how the marvel could have happened, Agnes spoke two accusing words. + +“Double Trouble!” she cried, pointing her finger at Lillie Treble, who +had just appeared, angelic face and all, at the back door. + +“Did that young’un do that?” demanded Mrs. McCall, vigorously. + +“She most certainly did,” declared Agnes. “She tried to get rid of the +dried apples, and the doll Dot wouldn’t let her play with, at one and +the same time. Isn’t she the mean thing?” + +Instantly Lillie’s face was convulsed into a mask of rage and dislike. +“I hate all you girls!” she snarled. “I’ll do worse than that to you!” + +Mrs. McCall seized her like an eagle pouncing upon a rabbit. Mrs. +McCall was very vigorous. She carried Lillie into the kitchen with one +hand, and laid her abruptly, face down, over her knee. + +What happened during the next few moments was evidently the surprise +of Lillie Treble’s young life. Her mother had never corrected her in +that good, old-fashioned way. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MR. HOWBRIDGE IS PERPLEXED + + +Tess and Dot went out that morning, when the sun had dried the grass, +to play with the lonely little Creamer girl, and they did not invite +Lillie Treble to go with them. + +Nobody could blame them for that breach of politeness. Dot could not +overlook the dreadful thing Lillie had done to the Alice-doll. +Fortunately, the doll was not wholly ruined—but “no thanks to +Lillie,” as Agnes said. + +She never _would_ look like the same doll again. “She is so pale now,” +said Dot, hugging the doll tightly; “she looks as though she had been +through a dreadful illness. Doesn’t she, Tess?” + +“And her beautiful dress and cap all ruined,” groaned Tess. “It was +awfully mean of Lillie.” + +“I don’t care so much about the dress,” murmured Dot. “But the color +ran so in her cheeks, and one of her eyes is ever so much lighter blue +than the other.” + +“We’ll play she _has_ been sick,” said Tess. “She’s had the measles, +like Mabel’s sisters.” + +“Oh, no!” cried Dot, who believed in the verities of play-life. “Oh, +no! it would not be nice to have all the other dolls quarantined, like +Mabel is.” + +Mabel was not very happy on this morning, it proved. Her face was +flushed when she came to the fence, and she spoke to the Kenway girls +hoarsely, as though she suffered from a cold. + +“Come on over here and play. I’m tired of playing so at arm’s length +like we’ve been doing.” + +“Oh, we couldn’t,” said Tess, shaking her head vigorously. + +“Why not? _You_ haven’t quarantine at your house,” said Mabel, +pouting. + +“Mrs. McCall says we mustn’t—nor you mustn’t come over here.” + +“I don’t care,” began Mabel, but Tess broke in cheerfully, with: + +“Oh, let’s keep on using the make-believe telephone. And let’s make +believe the river’s in a flood between us, and the bridges are all +carried away, and——” + +“No! I won’t play that way,” cried Mabel, passionately, and with a +stamp of her foot. “I want you to come over here.” + +“We can’t,” said Tess, quite as firmly. + +“You’re mean things—there now! I never did like you, anyway. I want +you to play in my yard——” + +“_I’ll_ come over and play with you,” interposed a cool, sweet voice, +and there was Lillie Treble, looking just as angelic as she could +look. + +“Oh, Lillie!” gasped Tess. But Mabel broke in with: + +“Come on. There’s a loose picket yonder. You can push it aside. Come +on over here, little girl, and we’ll have a good time. I never did +like those stuck-up Kenway girls, anyway.” + +Lillie turned once to give Tess and Dot the full benefit of one of the +worst grimaces she could possibly make. Then she joined the Creamer +girl in the other yard. She remained over there all the morning, and +for some reason Mabel and Lillie got along very nicely together. +Lillie could be real nice, if she wanted to be. + +That afternoon Mabel did not appear in her yard and Lillie wandered +about alone, having sworn eternal enmity against Tess and Dot. The +next morning Mrs. Creamer put her head out of an upstairs window of +the cottage and told Mrs. McCall, who chanced to be near the +line-fence between the two places, that Mabel had “come down” with the +measles, after all the precautions they had taken with her. + +“It’s lucky those two little girls over there didn’t come into our +yard to play with her,” said Mrs. Creamer. “The other young ones are +just beginning to get around, and now Mabel will have to have a spell. +She always was an obstinate child; she couldn’t even have measles at a +proper and convenient time.” + +Mrs. Treble, meantime, was feeling herself more and more at home in +the old Corner House. She did not offer to help in the general +housework in the least, and did nothing but “rid up” her own room. +There could be nothing done, or nothing talked of in the family, that +Mrs. Treble was not right there to interfere, or advise, or change, or +in some way “put her oar in,” as Agnes disrespectfully said, to the +complete vexation of the person most concerned. + +In addition, morning, noon and night she was forever dinning the fact +into the ears of the girls, or Mrs. McCall, or Aunt Sarah, or Uncle +Rufus, that her husband’s mother was Uncle Peter Stower’s own sister. +“John Augustus Treble talked a lot about Uncle Peter—always,” she +said. “I had a little property, when I married John Augustus. It was +cash money left from my father’s life insurance. + +“He wasn’t a very good business man, John Augustus. But he meant +well,” she continued. “He took my money and started a little store +with it. He took a lease of the store for three years. There was a +shoe factory right across the street, and a box shop on one hand and a +knitting mill on the other. Looked like a variety store ought to pay +in such a neighborhood. + +“But what happened?” demanded Mrs. Treble, in her most complaining +tone. “Why, the shoe factory moved to Chicago. The box shop burned +down. The knitting mill was closed up by the sheriff. Then the +landlord took all John Augustus’ stock for payment of the rent. + +“So he had to go to work in the powder mill, and that finally blew him +up. But he always said to me: ‘Now, don’t you fuss, Emily, don’t you +fuss. When Uncle Peter Stower dies, there’ll be plenty coming to us, +and you’ll live like a lady the rest of _your_ life.’ Poor fellow! If +I hadn’t seen him go to work that morning, I’d never have believed it +was the same man they put into his coffin.” + +When she told this version of the tale to Aunt Sarah, and many more +details, Aunt Sarah never said a word, or even looked as though she +heard Mrs. Treble. The old lady’s silence and grimness finally riled +Mrs. Treble’s temper. + +“Say!” she exclaimed. “Why don’t you say something? John Augustus’ +mother came from Milton when she was a girl. You must have known her. +Why don’t you say something?” + +At last Aunt Sarah opened her lips. It was the second time in their +lives that the Kenway girls had ever heard the old lady say more than +two sentences consecutively. + +“You want me to say something? Then I will!” declared Aunt Sarah, +grimly, and her eyes flashing. “You say your husband’s mother was +Peter Stower’s sister, do ye? Well! old Mr. Stower never had but one +child by his first wife, before he married my mother, and that child +was Peter. Peter didn’t have any sister but these gals’ mother, and +myself. You ain’t got no more right in this house than you would have +in the palace of the King of England—and if Ruth Kenway wasn’t +foolish, she’d put you out.” + +Agnes was delighted at this outbreak. It seemed that Aunt Sarah must +speak with authority. Ruth was doubtful; she did not know which lady +to believe. Mrs. Treble merely tossed her head, and said it was no +more than she had expected. Of course, Aunt Sarah would back up these +Kenway girls in their ridiculous claim to the estate. + +“Oh, dear me! I do wish Mr. Howbridge would return home,” groaned +Ruth. + +“I’d put them both out,” declared Agnes, who could scarcely control +her dislike for the lady from Ypsilanti and her bothersome little +girl. + +The neighbors and those acquaintances whom the girls had made before +began to take sides in the matter. Of course, Miss Titus had spread +the tidings of the coming of Mrs. Treble, and what she had come for. +The lady herself was not at all backward in putting her story before +any person who might chance to call upon the Corner House girls. + +Some of these people evidently thought Mrs. Treble had the better +right to Uncle Peter’s property. It was well known by now, that no +will had been offered for probate. Others were sure, like Aunt Sarah, +that Uncle Peter had had no sister save the girls’ mother. + +The minister’s wife came to call—heard both sides of the +argument—and told Ruth she was doing just right. “It was a kindly +thing to do, Ruth,” she said, kissing the girl, warmly. “I do not +believe she has any claim upon the estate. There is a mistake +somewhere. But you are a good girl, and Mr. Howbridge will straighten +the matter out, when he comes—never fear.” + +But before the lawyer came, something occurred which seemed to make it +quite impossible for Ruth to ask Mrs. Treble to go, even had she so +desired. Lillie came down with the measles! + +She had caught the disease that morning she had played with Mabel +Creamer, and to Dot’s horror, “quarantine” came into the old Corner +House. Ruth was dreadfully afraid that Dot and Tess might catch the +disease, too, for neither of them had had it. Although the doctor said +that Lillie had the disease in a light form, Ruth kept the younger +girls as far away from the Trebles’ apartment as she could, and even +insisted upon Mrs. Treble taking her meals up stairs. + +Mr. Howbridge came home at last. Ruth had left a note at his office +explaining her trouble, and the lawyer came over to the old Corner +House the day following his return. + +He listened to Ruth’s story without comment. Then he went up stairs +and talked with Mrs. Treble. From the sound of Mrs. Treble’s +high-pitched voice, that must have been rather a stormy interview. Mr. +Howbridge was quite calm when he came down to the girls again. + +“Oh, sir!” Agnes cried, unable to restrain herself any longer. “You +are not going to let her put us out of this dear old house, are you!” + +“I wouldn’t worry about that, my dear. Not yet, at least,” returned +Mr. Howbridge, kindly. But to Ruth he said: “It is an utterly +unexpected situation. I am not prepared to give an opinion upon the +woman’s claim. + +“However, I think you are a brave girl, Miss Kenway, and I approve of +all you have done. You have made a good impression upon the people +here in Milton, I am sure. Yes; you did quite right. Don’t worry about +money matters. All the bills shall be paid. + +“But, my dear, I wish more than ever that we could find that will. +That would settle affairs immediately, and unless she tried to break +the will in the courts, she would have no standing at all. Of course, +it is for the little girl she claims a part of Mr. Peter Stower’s +property. She, personally, has no rights herself, even if her tale is +true.” + +Ruth knew that he was perplexed, however, so her own heart was but +little relieved by the lawyer’s visit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS WIN PUBLIC APPROVAL + + +Was it Mr. Howbridge’s wish, or her own desire, that set Ruth the very +next day at the task of searching the garret thoroughly? She allowed +only Agnes to go up with her; Tess and Dot were out of the house, Mrs. +McCall was busy, and the lady from Ypsilanti was engaged in nursing +her little daughter. + +These days they were much relieved of Mrs. Treble’s interference in +their affairs. Lillie claimed all her mother’s attention, and although +the child was not very ill, she managed to take up almost every moment +of her mother’s time. + +Agnes was frankly scary about the huge lumber-room at the top of the +house. Despite Ruth’s declaration that they would use the garret to +play in on stormy days, they had not often gone there for that—nor +for any other—purpose. + +The girls had removed all the ancient garments and aired them. Many +were moth-eaten and past redemption; those went to the ragman. Others +were given to Petunia Blossom to be fixed over for her growing family. +Some of the remainder were hung up again, shrouding one dark corner of +the garret in which Ruth knew there was neither box, nor chest, nor +trunk. + +It was the chests of drawers, and boxes, the two girls gave their +attention to on the occasion of this search. Before, Ruth had opened +several of the old-fashioned receptacles and rummaged in the contents. +Now she and Agnes went at the task methodically. + +Everything was taken out of the chests, and boxes, and drawers, and +shaken out before being put back again. The girls came upon many +unexpected treasures, and Agnes soon forgot her fear of the supposed +ghostly occupant of the garret. + +Ruth, however, would not allow her to stop and try on wonderful +ancient garments, or read yellowed letters, bound with faded tape, or +examine the old-fashioned gift-books, between the leaves of which were +pressed flowers and herbs, all of which, Agnes was sure, were the +souvenirs of sentiment. + +Oh, yes! there were papers—reams and reams of them! But they were +either letters of no moment to the quest in hand, or ancient documents +of no possible use save for their historical value. They came upon +some papers belonging to the original Peter Stower—the strong, +hard-working man who had built this great house in his old age and had +founded the family. + +He had been an orphan and had been sheltered in the Milton poorhouse. +Here was his “indenture paper,” which bound him to a blacksmith of the +town when he was twelve years old. As Ruth and Agnes read the faded +lines and old-fashioned printing, they realized that the difference +between an apprentice in those days in the north, and a black slave in +the south, was all in favor of the last named. + +But this “bound boy” had worked, studied nights so as to get some +education, had married his master’s daughter, and come in time to be +heir to his business. He had taken contracts for furnishing the +ironwork for government warships, and so, little by little, had risen +to be a prosperous, then a very wealthy man. + +The old Corner House was the fruit of his labor and his desire to +establish in the town of his miserable beginnings, a monument to his +own pluck and endeavor. Where he may have been scorned for the “bound +boy” that he was, he took pride in leaving behind him when he died the +memory only of a strong, rich, proud man. + +The girls found nothing which the last Peter Stower could have +considered—whether he were miser, or not—of sufficient value to hide +away. Certainly no recently dated papers came to light, and no will at +all, or anything that looked like such a document. + +They ransacked every drawer, taking them out of the worm-eaten, shaky +pieces of furniture, and rummaging behind them for secret panels and +the like. Actually, the only thing the girls found that mystified them +at all in their search, was half a doughnut lying on a window sill! + +“Whoever left that doughnut there?” demanded Agnes. “I don’t believe +the girls have been up here alone. Could that Lillie have been here?” + +“Perhaps,” sighed Ruth. “She was going everywhere about the house, +before she was taken down sick.” + +“It’s a blessing she’s sick—that’s what _I_ say,” was Agnes’ rather +heartless reply. “But—a doughnut! and all hard and dry.” + +“Maybe it was Dot’s goat?” chuckled Ruth, nervously. + +“Don’t!” gasped Agnes. “My nerves are all on the jump as it is. Is +there any single place in this whole garret that we haven’t looked?” + +Ruth chanced to be staring at the doughnut on the window sill, and did +not at first answer. That was the window at the right of the chimney +where she had seen the ghostly apparition fluttering in the storm. The +space about the window remained cleared, as it was before. + +“Wake up!” commanded Agnes. “Where shall we look now?” + +Ruth turned with a sigh and went toward the high and ornate +black-walnut “secretary” that stood almost in the middle of the huge +room. + +“Goodness to gracious!” ejaculated the younger girl. “We’ve tried that +old thing again and again. I’ve almost knocked the backboards off, +pounding to see if there were secret places in it. It’s as empty as it +is ugly.” + +“I suppose so,” sighed Ruth. “It’s strange, though, that Uncle Peter +did not keep papers in it, for that is what it was intended for. +Almost every drawer and cupboard in it locks with a different key.” + +She had been given a huge bunch of keys by Mr. Howbridge when they +first came to the Corner House; and she had used these keys freely in +searching the garret furniture. + +As they went hopelessly down to the third floor, at last, Ruth noticed +that one of the small chambers on this floor, none of which the family +had used since coming to Milton, had been opened. The door now stood +ajar. + +“I suppose that snoopy Mrs. Treble has been up here,” said Agnes, +sharply. “I thought all these doors were locked, Ruth?” + +“Not all of them had keys. But they were all shut tightly,” and she +went to this particular room and peered in. + +The bed was a walnut four-poster—one of the old-fashioned kind that +was “roped”—and the feather-bed lay upon it, covered with an +old-fashioned quilt. + +“Why! it looks just as though somebody had been sleeping here,” gasped +Ruth, after a moment. + +“What?” cried Agnes. “Impossible!” + +“Doesn’t that look like the imprint of a body on the bed? Not a big +person. Somebody as big as Tess, perhaps?” + +“It wasn’t Tess, I am quite sure,” declared Agnes. + +“Could it have been Sandy-face?” + +“Of course not! No cat would make such a big hollow, lying down in a +bed. I know! it was that Lillie Treble—‘Double Trouble’! Of course,” +concluded Agnes, with assurance. + +So Ruth came out and closed the door carefully. Had it not been for +her sister’s assurance at just this moment, Ruth might have made a +surprising discovery, there and then! + +She had to report to Mr. Howbridge, by note, that a thorough search of +the garret had revealed nothing which Uncle Peter Stower could have +hidden away. + +While Lillie was under the doctor’s care, Mrs. Treble was out of the +way. Affairs at the old Corner House went on in a more tranquil way. +The Creamer girls who had first been ill, were allowed out of doors, +and became very friendly with Tess and Dot—over the fence. The +quarantine bars were not, as yet, altogether down. + +Maria Maroni came to see them frequently, and Alfredia Blossom brought +her shining black face to the old Corner House regularly, on Mondays +and Thursdays. Usually she could not stop to play on Monday, when she +and Jackson came for the soiled clothes, but if Petunia got the +ironing done early enough on Thursday, Alfredia visited for a while. + +“I don’t believe Alfredia could be any nicer, if she was bleached +white,” Dot said, seriously, on one occasion. “But I know she’d like +to be like us—and other folks, Tess.” + +“I expect she would,” agreed Tess. “But we must treat her just as +though her skin was like ours. Ruth says she is sure Alfredia’s heart +is white.” + +“Oh!” gasped Dot. “And they showed us in school before we left +Bloomingsburg, pictures of folks’ hearts, and lungs, and livers—don’t +you remember? And the heart was painted _red_.” + +“I don’t expect they were photographs,” said Tess, decidedly. “And +there aren’t any pictures exact but photographs—and movies.” + +The Pease girls came frequently to play with Tess and Dot, and the +younger Kenways went to _their_ house. None of the Corner House girls +could go out on the street now without being spoken to by the Milton +people. Many of these friendly advances were made by comparative +strangers to the four sisters. + +The tangle of Uncle Peter Stower’s affairs had gotten even into the +local newspapers, and one newspaper reporter came to Ruth for what he +called “an interview.” Ruth sent him to Mr. Howbridge and never heard +anything more of it. + +The friends Agnes had made among the girls of her own, and Ruth’s, age +began to come to call more frequently. Eva Larry admitted she felt +shivery, whenever she approached the old house, and she could not be +hired to come on a stormy day. Just the same, she was so sorry for the +girls, and liked Agnes so much, that she just _had_ to run in and +cheer them up a bit. + +Older people came, too. Ruth’s head might have been turned, had she +been a less sensible girl. The manner in which she handled the +situation which had risen out of Mrs. Treble’s coming east to demand a +share of the property left by Peter Stower, seemed to have become +public knowledge, and the public of Milton approved. + +Nobody called on Mrs. Treble. Perhaps that was because she was +quarantined upstairs, with Lillie convalescent from her attack of the +measles. However, the Corner House girls, as they were now generally +called, seemed to be making friends rapidly. + +Public approval had set its seal upon their course. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +CALLERS—AND THE GHOST + + +“I do wonder!” said Tess, with a sigh. + +“What do you wonder?” asked Ruth, mildly. + +“Sounds like a game,” Agnes observed, briskly. The Corner House girls +were sitting on the porch with their sewing, and it was a very warm +August forenoon. “‘Cumjucum—what do you come by? I come by the letter +T’—which stands for ‘Tess’ and ‘Trouble,’ which last is the +expression on Tess’ face,” concluded Agnes, with a laugh. + +Tess’ train of thought was not to be sidetracked so easily. “I wonder +whatever became of Tommy Rooney?” she said. + +“You don’t really believe that was Tommy you saw the day it rained so +hard?” cried Agnes. + +“Yes, I do. And we know that Tommy stole cherries from Mr. Pease, and +milk from Mrs. Adams. Didn’t he, Dot? And then, we saw Mr. Pinkney and +that bulldog chasing him.” + +“He ran into our yard to escape the dog,” said Dot, seriously. + +“Well,” said Ruth, “if it was Tommy, I wish he had come to the house, +so we could have fed him. Mrs. Rooney must be awfully worried about +him. It’s been a month since we heard he had run away.” + +“And he’d been gone a week, then,” added Agnes. + +“Well,” said Tess, “I guess he hasn’t killed any Indians here in +Milton, or we would have heard about it.” + +“I guess not,” chuckled Agnes. + +“I always look for him, when I’m on the street,” said Dot. + +“We’ll look for him to-day,” said Tess, “when we go to see Maria.” + +Tess and Dot were going over to Meadow Street that afternoon to call +on the Maronis and Mrs. Kranz. The condition of the Maronis had +greatly improved during these weeks. Not only Joe and Maria, but the +whole family had begun to be proud of living “like Americans.” + +Mrs. Kranz, out of the kindness of her heart, had helped them a great +deal. Maria helped the good German lady each forenoon, and was +learning to be a careful little housekeeper. + +“She iss a goot mädchen,” declared the large lady. “Aind’t idt +vonderful how soon dese foreigners gets to be respectable, ven dey iss +learndt yet?” + +Tess and Dot went up stairs to make themselves ready for their visit, +before luncheon. Upon their departure, Eva Larry and Myra Stetson +appeared at the front gate. + +“Oh, do come in, girls!” shouted Agnes, dropping her sewing. + +“We will, if you’ll tie up your ghost,” said Eva, laughing. + +“Hush!” commanded Ruth. “Don’t say such things—not out loud, please.” + +“Well,” Eva said, as she and Myra joined them on the porch, “I +understand you have ransacked that old garret. Did you chase out Mr. +Ghost?” + +“What is that?” demanded Mrs. Treble’s shrill voice in the doorway. +“What does that girl mean by ‘ghost’?” + +“Oh, Mrs. Treble!” cried the teasing Eva. “Haven’t you heard of the +famous Garret Ghost of the old Corner House—and you here so long?” + +“Oh, don’t!” begged Ruth, sotto voce. + +Mrs. Treble was not to be denied. Something evidently had escaped her +curiosity, and she felt cheated of a sensation. “Go on and tell me, +girl,” she commanded Eva. + +Eva, really nothing loath, related the story of the supposed +supernatural occupant of the garret. “And it appears on stormy, windy +days. At least, that’s when it’s been seen. It comes to the window up +there and bows, and flutters its grave clothes—and—and all that.” + +“How ridiculous!” murmured Ruth. But her face was troubled and Mrs. +Treble studied her accusingly. + +“That’s why you forbade my Lillie going up there,” she said. “A ghost, +indeed! I guess you have something hidden up there, my girl, that you +don’t want other folks to see. You can’t fool me about ghosts. I don’t +believe in them,” concluded the lady from Ypsilanti. + +“Now you’ve done it, Eva,” said Agnes, in a low voice, when Mrs. +Treble had departed. “There isn’t a place in this house that she +hasn’t tried to put her nose in _but_ the garret. Now she’ll go up +there.” + +“Hush,” begged Ruth, again. “Don’t get her angry, Agnes.” + +“Oh! here comes Mr. Howbridge!” exclaimed the other Kenway girl, glad +to change the subject. + +Ruth jumped up to welcome him, and ushered him into the dining-room, +while the other girls remained upon the porch. As she closed the door, +she did not notice that Mrs. Treble stood in the shadow under the +front stairs. + +“I have been to see this Mrs. Bean,” said the lawyer, to Ruth, when +they were seated. “She is an old lady whose memory of what happened +when she was young seems very clear indeed. She does not know this +Mrs. Treble and her child personally. Mrs. Treble has not been to see +her, since she came to Milton.” + +“No. Mrs. Treble has not been out at all,” admitted Ruth. + +“Mrs. Bean,” pursued Mr. Howbridge, “declares that she knew Mr. +Treble’s mother very well, as a girl. She says that the said mother of +John Augustus Treble went west when she was a young woman—before she +married. She left behind a brother—Peter Stower. Mrs. Bean has always +lived just outside of Milton and has not, I believe, lived a very +active life, or been much in touch with the town’s affairs. To her +mind, Milton is still a village. + +“She claims,” said Mr. Howbridge, “to have heard frequently of this +Peter Stower, and when she heard he had died, she wrote to the +daughter-in-law of her former friend. That is her entire connection +with the matter. She said one very odd thing. That is, she clearly +remembers of having hired Peter Stower once to clean up her yard and +make her garden. She says he was in the habit of doing such work at +one time, and she talked with him about this sister who had gone +west.” + +“Oh!” gasped Ruth. + +“It does not seem reasonable,” said Mr. Howbridge. “There is a mixup +of identities somewhere. I am pretty sure that, as much as Mr. Peter +Stower loved money, he did not have to earn any of it in such a humble +way. It’s a puzzle. But the solving of the problem would be very easy, +if we could find that lost will.” + +Ruth told him how she and Agnes had thoroughly examined the garret and +the contents of the boxes and furniture stowed away there. + +“Well,” sighed the lawyer. “We may have to go into chancery to have +the matter settled. That would be a costly procedure, and I dislike to +take that way.” + +Directly after luncheon Tess and Dot started off for Meadow Street +with the convalescent Alice-doll pushed before them in Dot’s +doll-carriage. Mrs. Treble, who had begun to eat down stairs again, +although Lillie was not allowed out of her room as yet, marched +straight up stairs, and, after seeing that Lillie was in order, +tiptoed along the hall, and proceeded up the other two flights to the +garret door. + +When she opened this door and peered into the dimly lit garret, she +could not repress a shudder. + +“It is a spooky place,” she muttered. + +But her curiosity had been aroused, and if Mrs. Treble had one +phrenological bump well developed, it was that of curiosity! In she +stepped, closed the door behind her, and advanced toward the middle of +the huge, littered room. + +A lost will! Undoubtedly hidden somewhere in these old chests of +drawers—or in that tall old desk yonder. Either the Kenway girls have +been very stupid, or Ruth has not told that lawyer the truth! These +were Mrs. Treble’s unspoken thoughts. + +What was that noise? A rat? Mrs. Treble half turned to flee. She was +afraid of rats. + +There was another scramble. One of the rows of old coats and the like, +hanging from nails in the rafters overhead, moved more than a little. +A rat could not have done that. + +The ghost? Mrs. Treble was not at all afraid of such silly things as +ghosts! + +“I see you there!” she cried, and strode straight for the corner. + +There was another scramble, one of the Revolutionary uniform coats was +pulled off the hook on which it had hung, and seemed, of its own +volition, to pitch toward her. + +Mrs. Treble screamed, but she advanced. The coat seemed to muffle a +small figure which tried to dodge her. + +“I have you!” cried Mrs. Treble, and clutched at the coat. + +She secured the coat itself, but a small, ragged, red haired, and much +frightened boy slid out of its smothering folds and plunged toward the +door of the garret. In trying to seize this astonishing apparition, +Mrs. Treble missed her footing and came down upon her knees. + +The boy, with a stifled shout, reached the door. He wrenched it open +and dove down the stairway. His bare feet made little sound upon the +bare steps, or upon the carpeted halls below. He seemed to know his +way about the house very well indeed. + +When Mrs. Treble reached the stairs and came down, heavily, shrieking +the alarm, nobody in the house saw the mysterious red haired boy. But +Uncle Rufus, called from his work in the garden, was amazed to see a +small figure squeezing through a cellar window into the side-yard. In +a minute the said figure flew across to the street fence, scrambled +over it, and disappeared up Willow Street, running almost as fast as a +dog. + +“Glo-ree!” declared the black man, breathlessly. “If dat boy keeps on +runnin’ like he’s done started, he’ll go clean ’round de worl’ an’ be +back fo’ supper!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +NOT ENTIRELY EXPLAINED + + +Joe Maroni smiled at Tess and Dot broadly, and the little gold rings +in his ears twinkled, when the girls approached his fruit stand. + +“De litla ladies mak’ Joe ver’ hap’—come to see-a he’s Maria. Maria, +she got da craz’ in da head to wait for to see you.” + +“Oh, I hope not, Mr. Maroni,” said Tess, in her most grown-up way. “I +guess Maria isn’t crazy, only glad.” + +“Glad a—si, si! Here she come.” + +Maria, who always was clean and neat of dress now, appeared from the +cellar. She was helping her mother draw out the new baby carriage that +Joe had bought—a grand piece of furniture, with glistening wheels, +varnished body, and a basket top that tipped any way, so as to keep +the sun out of the baby’s eyes. + +The baby was fat again and very well. He crowed, and put his arms out +to Tess and Dot, and the latter was so delighted with him that she +almost neglected the Alice-doll in _her_ carriage. + +The little Maronis thought that big doll and its carriage were, +indeed, very wonderful possessions. Two of the smaller Maronis were +going walking with the visitors, and Maria and the baby. + +Joe filled the front of the baby carriage with fruit, so that the +children would not be hungry while away from the house. Off the +procession started, for they had agreed to go several blocks to the +narrow little park that skirted the canal. + +It was a shady park, and the Kenway girls and the clean, pretty Maroni +children had a very nice time. Maria was very kind and patient with +her sisters and with the baby, and nothing happened to mar the +afternoon’s enjoyment until just as the children were about to wheel +the baby—and the doll—back to Meadow Street. + +What happened was really no fault of any of this little party in whom +we are interested. They had set off along the canal path, when there +suddenly darted out of some bushes a breathless, hatless boy, whose +tangled hair was fiery red! + +Tess shrieked aloud. “Why! Tommy Rooney! Whatever are you doing here?” + +The boy whirled and stared at Tess and Dot, with frightened +countenance. Their appearance in this place evidently amazed him. He +stumbled backward, and appeared to intend running away; but his foot +tripped and he went down the canal bank head-first! + +Splash he went into the murky water, and disappeared. The girls all +screamed then; there were no grown folk near—no men at all in sight. + +When Tommy Rooney came to the surface he was choking and coughing, and +paddled for only a moment, feebly, before going under again. It was +plain that he could not swim. + +“Oh, oh!” cried Dot. “He’ll be drowned. Tommy Rooney will be drowned! +And what will his mother say to _that_?” + +Tess wrung her hands and screamed for help. But there _was_ no help. + +That is, there would have been none for poor Tommy, if it had not been +for quick-witted Maria Maroni. Quickly she snatched the baby from the +carriage and put him into Tess’ arms. Then she flung out the pillows +and wrappings, and ran the carriage to the brow of the canal-bank. + +Up came Tommy again, his eyes open, gurgling a cry, and fighting to +keep above the surface. + +[Illustration: Up came Tommy again, his eyes open, gurgling a cry, +and fighting to keep above the surface.] + +“Look out, boy!” cried Maria, and she ran the baby carriage right down +the bank, letting it go free. + +The carriage wheeled into the water and floated, as Maria knew it +would. It was within the reach of Tommy’s still sturdy hands. He +grabbed it, and although it dipped some, it bore up his weight so that +he did not sink again. + +By that time men had heard their cries, and came running from the +lock. They soon fished out Master Tommy and the baby carriage, too. + +“You’re a smart little kid,” said one of the men, to Maria, and he +gave her a silver dollar. Meanwhile the other man turned Tommy across +his knee to empty the water out of his lungs. Tommy thought he was +going to get a spanking, and he began to struggle and plead with the +man. + +“Aw, don’t, Mister! I didn’t mean to fall into your old canal,” he +begged, half strangling. “I didn’t hurt the water none.” + +The men laughed. “You ought to get it—and get it good,” he said. “But +perhaps the dip in the canal was punishment enough for you. I’ll leave +it to your mother to finish the job right.” + +“Say! does he belong to these little girls?” asked the other man. +“He’s no Italian.” + +“Well, here’s two girls who are not Italians, either,” said the other +rescuer. + +“He’ll go home with us,” declared Tess, with confidence. “If he +doesn’t, we’ll tell his mother, and she’ll send a policeman after +Tommy.” + +“Guess the little lady knows what she’s about,” laughed the man. “Come +on, Jim. The boy’s so water-soaked that it’s pretty near put his hair +out. No danger of much fire there now.” + +Maria was afraid of what her father would do and say when he saw the +condition of the new baby carriage. She carried the baby home in her +arms, while her little sisters carried the pillows and other things. +Tess ordered Tommy Rooney to push the carriage. + +Tess was very stern with Tommy, and the latter was very meek. +Naturally, he was much subdued after his involuntary bath; and he was +worried, too. + +“You—you going to make me go clear home with you, Tess Kenway?” he +finally asked. + +“Yes, I am.” + +“Well,” said the boy, with a sigh, “they’ll just about kill me there.” + +“What for?” demanded Tess and Dot, in chorus. + +“Guess you warn’t at home an hour ago?” said Tommy, a faint grin +dawning on his face. + +“No. We came over here right after lunch,” said Tess. + +“Wow! wait till you hear about it,” groaned Tommy. “Just wait!” and he +refused to explain further. + +At the Meadow Street fruit stand, there was great excitement when the +procession appeared. Mrs. Maroni feared that it was the baby who had +fallen into the canal and she ran out, screaming. + +Such a chattering Tess and Dot had never heard before. Joe and his +wife and all the children—including Maria and the baby—screeched at +the top of their voices. Somehow an understanding of the facts was +gathered by Mr. and Mrs. Maroni, and they began to calm down. + +Then Tess put in a good word for Maria, and told Joe that she had +saved the life of Tommy, who was a friend of theirs—and a friend of +the “litla Padrona,” as Joe insisted upon calling Ruth. + +So the excitable Italian was pacified, and without visiting Mrs. Kranz +on this occasion, Tess and Dot bade the Maronis good-by, kissed the +baby, and with Tommy Rooney started for home. + +As they approached the old Corner House, Tommy grew more and more +disturbed. He was not likely to get cold, if his garments _were_ wet, +for the day was very warm. Anyway, he wore so few garments, and they +were so ragged, that it did not seem to matter much, whether he +removed them in going in swimming, or not! + +“You girls better go ahead and tell ’em,” suggested Tommy, at last. + +“Tell ’em what?” demanded Tess. + +“Tell ’em——Well, tell ’em I’m coming. I wouldn’t want to frighten +your sisters—and—and that woman.” + +“No, we won’t,” said Tess. “You are fixing to run away again. Don’t +you dare even _start_, Tommy Rooney.” + +“Well,” grunted Tommy. “There’s something going to happen, when we get +there.” + +“Nothing’s going to happen. How you talk!” + +“Oh, yes there is. I scared that woman pretty near into fits.” + +“What woman?” demanded Tess and Dot, together. + +Tommy refused to be more explicit. They came in sight of the Corner +House. As they entered by the back gate, Ruth and Agnes rushed out +upon the rear porch, having caught sight of Tommy’s disreputable +figure. + +“There he is!” they shrieked. + +Mrs. McCall was visible behind them. She said something far more +practical. She demanded: “Is that the boy that’s been stealing my pies +and doughnuts?” + +Tommy shrank back and turned to flee. But Uncle Rufus darted out from +behind the woodshed and caught him. + +“Glo-ree! is dis de leetle rapscallion I done see squeezin’ out of dat +cellar winder? An’ I declar’! I didn’t t’ink nobody more’n a cat could +git in an out o’ dat winder.” + +A window opened above, and Mrs. Treble put out her head. “Hold him +till I come down there,” she ordered. “That little tyke tried to play +ghost and scare me. I’ll fix him.” + +She banged the window again, and was evidently hastening down stairs. +Even Dot turned upon the truant: + +“Have you been living in our garret, Tommy Rooney?” she cried. + +Tommy nodded, too full for utterance at that moment. + +“And we thought it was a goat!” declared Dot. + +“And you ate the cookies and doughnuts Mrs. McCall missed,” accused +Agnes. + +Tommy nodded. + +“And the dolls’ dinner out of our room,” cried Dot. “And we thought it +was Sandy-face.” + +“Ah—well——I was starvin’,” confessed Tommy. + +At this point Tess came to the front again. She stood before Tommy, +and even put Uncle Rufus firmly, though gently, aside. + +“Stop!” she said to the wrathful Mrs. Treble, when that lady appeared. +“Tommy is a friend of ours. And he’s been ’most drowned. You wouldn’t +want to punish him any more to-day. Dot and I invited him home, and +you mustn’t all _pounce_ on him this way. You know, his mother’s a +long way from here, and he hasn’t seen her lately, and—and he’s sorry +anyway. And it must be just _awful_ to be so hungry that you have to +_steal_.” + +At this point gentle Tess’ eyes ran over, and she turned to take the +red haired boy’s hand. To her amazement, Tommy’s grimy face was +likewise streaked with tears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AUNT SARAH SPEAKS OUT + + +Tommy Rooney’s capture explained some of the mysterious happenings +about the old Corner House, but he could not satisfy Ruth regarding +the figure she had seen appear at the garret window. For _that_ +happened before Tommy had ever been in the house. + +They were all kind to Tommy, however—all but Mrs. Treble—after Tess +had pleaded for him. Mrs. McCall washed his face and hands, and even +kissed him—on the sly—and then set him down to a very satisfying +meal. For as often as he had raided Mrs. McCall’s pantry at night +since taking up his abode in the garret of the old Corner House, he +had not had a real “_square_” meal for a month. + +The house was so big that, by keeping to the two upper floors of the +main part during the daytime, and venturing out-of-doors by way of the +cellar window only at night, Master Tommy had been able to avoid the +family for weeks. + +He had entered the house first on that evening when he was chased by +Mr. Pinkney and the bulldog. Finding the back door open, he had run up +the back stairs, and so climbed higher, and higher, until he reached +the garret. + +Nobody said anything to Master Tommy about the ghost, although Agnes +wanted to. Ruth forbade her to broach the subject to the runaway. + +Tommy had made a nest behind the old clothes, but some nights he had +slept in a bed on the third floor. The day Ruth and Agnes ransacked +the garret for Uncle Peter’s will, he had been down in that third +floor room. When Ruth discovered the print of his body on the +feather-bed, he was on the floor, under that bed, hidden by the +comforter which hung down all around it. + +He was pretty tired of the life he had been leading. He admitted to +the Corner House girls that he had not seen a single Indian in all his +wanderings. He was ready to go home—even if his mother thrashed him. + +So Ruth telegraphed Mrs. Rooney. She took Tommy to a nearby store and +dressed him neatly, if cheaply, and then bought his ticket and put him +in the care of the conductor of the Bloomingsburg train. Tommy, much +wiser than he had been, and quite contrite, went home. + +“I s’pose he’s a dreadful bad boy,” sighed Dot. “But my! no girl would +ever have such things happen to her—would she?” + +“Would you want to be chased by bulldogs, and live in garrets, and +steal just enough to keep alive—and—and never have on anything +clean, Dot Kenway?” demanded Tess, in horror. + +“No, I don’t s’pose I would,” confessed Dot. Then she sighed, and +added: “It’s _awful_ commonplace, just the same, bein’ a girl, isn’t +it?” + +“I agree with you, Dot-ums,” cried Agnes, who heard her. “Nothing ever +happens to us.” + +Almost on the heels of that statement, however, something happened to +them that satisfied even Agnes’ longing for romance, for some time +thereafter. + +It was on Saturday that Tommy Rooney went home to his anxious mother. +The weather had been of a threatening character for several days. That +night the wind shrieked and moaned again around the old Corner House +and the rain beat with impotent hands against the panes. + +A rainy Sunday is not often a cheerful day. Ruth Kenway always tried +to interest her sisters on such occasions in books and papers; or they +had quiet talks about “when mother was with us,” or those more ancient +times “before father went away.” + +If they could possibly get to Sabbath School on such stormy days, they +did so. This particular mid-August Sunday was no exception. + +The rain ceased for a while about noon and the four set forth, under +two umbrellas, and reached the church in season. They were glad they +had come, so few scholars were there, and they helped swell the +attendance. + +Coming home, it rained a little, and their umbrellas were welcome. +Tess and Dot were under the smaller umbrella and the older girls had +the larger one. Coming across the parade ground, the path they +followed approached the old Corner House from the side. + +“Oh, see there!” cried Tess, suddenly. “Somebody’s waving to us from +the window.” + +“What window?” demanded Agnes, with sudden nervousness, trying to tip +up the big umbrella, so that she could see, too. + +“Why!” cried Tess. “It’s in the garret.” + +“Oh, I see it!” agreed Dot. + +“Oh! mercy me!” groaned Agnes. + +“Stop that!” gasped Ruth, shaking her by the arm. “You want to scare +those children?” + +“It’s—it’s the ghost,” whispered Agnes, too afraid to look again. + +Tess and Dot were merely curious. Ruth had seen the waving figure. +Immediately it seemed to leap upward and disappear. + +“Do you suppose it was Lillie?” asked Tess. + +“We’ll find out when we go in,” said Ruth, in a shaken voice. + +Agnes was almost in tears. She clung to Ruth’s arm and moaned in a +faint voice: + +“I don’t want to go in! I never want to go into that horrid old house +again.” + +“What nonsense you do talk, Ag,” said Ruth, as the little girls ran +ahead. “We have been all over that garret. We know there is really +nothing there——” + +“That’s just it,” groaned Agnes. “It _must_ be a ghost.” + +Ruth, unhappy as she felt, determined to discover the meaning of that +spectral figure. “Let’s go right up there and find out about it,” she +said. + +“Oh, Ruth!” + +“I mean it. Come on,” said the older sister, as they entered the big +hall. + +Tess and Dot heard her, and clamored to go, too, but Ruth sent the +smaller girls back. At the head of the front stairs, they met Mrs. +Treble. + +“Have you, or Lillie, been up in the attic?” asked Ruth, sharply. +“There was something at the window up there——” + +“What are you trying to do, girl?” demanded the lady from Ypsilanti, +scornfully. “Trying to scare me with a ridiculous ghost story?” + +“I don’t know what it is,” said Ruth. “I mean to find out. Were you up +there?” + +“I should have gone to the garret had I wished,” Mrs. Treble said, +scornfully. “You must have something hidden away there, that you don’t +want me to see. I wonder what it is?” + +“Oh, Mrs. Treble!” began Ruth, and just then she saw that Aunt Sarah’s +door was open. Aunt Sarah stood at the opening. + +“Niece Ruth!” exclaimed the old lady, harshly, “why don’t you send +that woman away? She’s got no business here.” + +“I’ve more right here than _you_ have, I should hope,” cried Mrs. +Treble, loudly. “And more right than these girls. You’ll all find out +when the courts take the matter up.” + +“Oh, Mrs. Treble! We none of us know——” + +“Yes we do, too,” declared the lady from Ypsilanti, interrupting Ruth. +“My husband’s mother was Peter Stower’s sister. Perhaps my Lillie +shall have _all_ the property—and this ugly old house, too. I tell +you what I’ll do first thing, when it comes into my hands as guardian +of my child.” + +Ruth and Agnes were speechless. Mrs. Treble was more passionate than +she had ever been before. + +“I shall tear this ugly old house down—that’s what I’ll do,” Mrs. +Treble declared. “I’ll raze it to the ground——” + +Aunt Sarah suddenly advanced into the hall. Her black eyes flashed as +though there were sparks in them. + +“You will do _what_?” she asked, in a low, hoarse voice. + +“I’ll tear down the house. It is no good.” + +“This beautiful old house!” groaned Agnes, forgetting about the ghost +at that moment. + +Aunt Sarah’s wrath was rising. It broke the bonds she had put upon her +tongue so many years before. + +“You will tear this house down?” she repeated. “Niece Ruth! is there +any chance of this woman getting control of Peter’s property?” + +“We don’t know,” said Ruth desperately. “If we can’t find Uncle +Peter’s will that Mr. Howbridge made, and which leaves the estate to +you and us girls, Aunt Sarah—” + +“There never was such a will,” put in Mrs. Treble. + +“Mr. Howbridge says there was. He thinks Mr. Stower must have hidden +it away with other papers, somewhere in the house——” + +“And I know where,” said Aunt Sarah, speaking out at last. “Peter +never thought I knew where he hid things. But I did. You gals come +with me.” + +She stalked toward the stairs that led upward. Ruth and Agnes, half +awed by her manner and speech, followed her. So did Mrs. Treble. + +Aunt Sarah went directly to the garret. Agnes forgot to be scared of +the ghost they had seen from outside, in her interest in this affair. + +Aunt Sarah went to the old secretary, or desk, standing in the middle +of the garret floor. + +“Oh, we’ve looked all through _that_,” whispered Agnes. + +“You did not look in the right place,” said Aunt Sarah. + +Quite calmly she tapped with her fingers upon a panel in one end of +the old desk. In a moment the panel dropped down, leaving in view a +very narrow depository for papers. It was crammed with documents of +several different kinds. + +Mrs. Treble sprang forward, with a cry. But Aunt Sarah got in front of +her. She seized her skirts with both hands and advanced upon the lady +from Ypsilanti with belligerence. + +“Shoo!” said Aunt Sarah. “Shoo!” + +As Mrs. Treble retreated, Aunt Sarah advanced, and, as though she were +“shooing” a refractory chicken, she drove the lady from Ypsilanti out +of the garret and closed the door firmly in her face. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +LAYING THE GHOST + + +Mr. Howbridge came by request to the Corner House the next morning. +Ruth had slept all night with the papers found in the old secretary +under her pillow. + +Mr. Howbridge came into the dining-room where the four Corner House +girls were assembled, smiling and evidently in right good humor. “I +understand you have made a wonderful discovery, Miss Kenway?” he said. + +“It was Aunt Sarah,” said Agnes, excitedly. “_She_ knew where the +papers were.” + +“Indeed?” said the lawyer, interested. + +“We have found some of Uncle Peter’s papers, that is sure,” said Ruth. +“And among them is one that I think must be the will you spoke of.” + +“Good! we shall hope it is the paper we have been looking for,” said +Mr. Howbridge, accepting the packet Ruth handed him. “And _I_ have +made a discovery, too.” + +“What is that, sir?” asked Ruth, politely. + +“It refers to Mrs. Treble’s claim to the estate of Mr. Peter Stower.” + +“If little Lillie bears any relationship to Uncle Peter, she must have +her just share of the estate. We could agree to nothing else,” Ruth +hastened to say. + +“Oh, Ruth!” exclaimed Agnes. + +Mr. Howbridge adjusted his glasses and looked at Ruth quizzically. +“Miss Kenway,” he said, “you are a remarkable girl. Lillie Treble is +the daughter of John Augustus Treble, without a doubt. _His_ mother +went west from Milton, years ago, as is claimed. But she was _not_ +Peter Stower’s sister.” + +“Oh, goody!” ejaculated Agnes, clapping her hands. + +“Who was she?” asked Ruth. + +Mr. Howbridge laughed softly. “She was the sister of a man named Peter +_Stover_. The names are similar, but there is a difference of one +letter—and many other differences, it seems. Peter Stover was a poor +man all his days. He was an ‘odd job’ man most of his life, working +about the farms on the outskirts of Milton, until he grew infirm. He +died last winter at the poorfarm. + +“Mrs. Bean, even, remembers the name right now. These Trebles +evidently heard of the wealth of your Uncle Peter, and thought he was +_their_ Uncle Peter. The names were so much alike, you see.” + +“Then—then Mrs. Treble and Lillie have no claim upon Uncle Peter’s +estate at all?” asked Ruth. + +“No more than the Man in the Moon,” said Mr. Howbridge, still smiling. + +“And you know _he_ isn’t any relation,” whispered Tess, to Dot, with +great importance. + +“The poor things!” Ruth sighed. “Whatever will they do?” + +“Why, Ruth Kenway!” exclaimed Agnes, in great excitement. “What are +you thinking of? I should think you had done enough for them.” + +Ruth only looked at her, and went on talking to the lawyer. “You see, +sir,” she said, “they are quite penniless. I know, for Mrs. Treble +broke down and cried about it last night, when I read to her the +provisions of what I supposed to be Uncle Peter’s will. + +“She spent the last money she had in getting here from Ypsilanti. She +has thoroughly believed that Lillie was to come into the money. Now, +what _can_ she do?” + +“Go back to Ypsilanti,” put in Agnes, sharply. + +“I wonder if her relatives will take her in again if she goes back?” +said Ruth slowly. + +“Ahem!” said Mr. Howbridge, clearing his throat. “I have been in +correspondence with a Mr. Noah Presley, her brother-in-law. He says he +was opposed to her coming east without knowing more of the situation +here and her own rights. Now he says she and Lillie may come back, +if——wait! I will read you exactly what he says,” and Mr. Howbridge +drew forth the letter in question. He cleared his throat again and +read: + +“‘Tell Emily she can come back here if she wants, providing she’ll +mind her own business and keep that dratted young one of hers from +turning the house upside down. I can’t pay her fare to Ypsilanti, but +I won’t refuse her a home.’” + +“You can easily see what _he_ thinks of them,” declared Agnes, grimly. + +“Do hush, dear,” begged Ruth. “Then you will pay their fare back for +them, will you not, Mr. Howbridge?” pursued Ruth. “And we shall see +that they are comfortably clothed. I do not think they have _many_ +frocks.” + +“You are really a very remarkable girl, Miss Kenway,” said Mr. +Howbridge again. That was the settlement of the Trebles’ affairs. Two +weeks later the Corner House girls saw the Ypsilanti lady and her +troublesome little girl off on the train for the west. + +At this particular Monday morning conference, the lawyer made it clear +to the Kenway girls that, now the will had been found, the matters of +the estate would all be straightened out. Unless they objected, he +would be appointed guardian as well as administrator of the estate. +There was plenty of cash in the bank, and they were warranted in +living upon a somewhat better scale than they had been living since +coming to the old Corner House. + +Besides, Ruth, as well as the other girls, was to go to school in the +autumn, and she looked forward to this change with delight. What she +and her sisters did at school, the new friends they made, and how they +bound old friends to them with closer ties, will be set forth in +another volume, to be called “The Corner House Girls at School.” + +A great many things happened to them before schooldays came around. As +Tess declared: + +“I never did see such a busy time in this family—did you, Dot? Seems +to me we don’t have time to turn around, before something new +happens!” + +“Well, I’m glad things happen,” quoth Dot, gravely. “Suppose nothing +ever _did_ happen to us? We just might as well be asleep all the +time.” + +First of all, with the mystery of Uncle Peter’s will cleared away, and +the status of Mrs. Treble and Lillie decided, Ruth went at the mystery +which had frightened them so in the garret. Even Agnes became brave +enough on that particular Monday to go “ghost hunting.” + +They clambered to the garret and examined the window at which they +thought they had seen the flapping, jumping figure in the storm. There +was positively nothing hanging near the window to suggest such a +spectral form as the girls had seen from the parade ground. + +“And this is the window,” said Ruth, thoughtfully. “To the right of +the chimney——Oh! goodness me, what a foolish mistake!” + +“What’s the matter now?” asked the nervous Agnes, who did not dare +approach very near the window. + +“Why, it wasn’t this window at all,” Ruth said. “Don’t you see? It was +to the right of the chimney _from the outside_! So it is on the left +of the chimney up here. It is the other window.” + +She marched around the big bulge of the chimney. Agnes held to her +sleeve. + +“I don’t care,” she said, faintly. “It was a ghost just the same——” + +There was another window just like the one they had formerly looked +at. Only, above the window frame was a narrow shelf on which lay a +big, torn, home-made kite—the cloth it was covered with yellowed with +age, and the string still fastened to it. In cleaning the garret, this +kite had been so high up that none of them had lifted it down. Indeed, +the string was fastened to a nail driven into a rafter, above. + +Even now there was a draught of air sucking in around the loose window +frame, and the kite rustled and wabbled on its perch. Ruth ran forward +and knocked it off the shelf. + +“Oh, oh!” shrieked Agnes. + +The kite dangled and jumped right before the window in such a manner +that it must have looked positively weird from the outside. It was +more than half as tall as a man and its crazy motions might well be +taken for a human figure, from a distance. + +Suddenly the boisterous wind seized it again and jerked it back to its +perch on the shelf. There it lay quivering, until the next gust of +wind should make it perform its ghostly dance before the garret +casement. + +“Oh, isn’t that great!” gasped Agnes. “And it must have been there for +years and years—ever since Uncle Peter was a boy, perhaps. Now! what +do you suppose Eva Larry will say?” + +“And other people who have been afraid to come to the old Corner +House?” laughed Ruth. “Oh, I know! we’ll give a ghost party up here in +the garret.” + +“Ruth!” screamed Agnes in delight. “That will be just scrumptious!” + +“We shall celebrate the laying of the ghost. No! don’t touch it, +Agnes. We’ll show the girls when they come just what made all the +trouble.” + +This the Corner House girls did. They invited every girl they had +become acquainted with in Milton—little and big. Even Alfredia +Blossom came and helped Uncle Rufus and Petunia Blossom wait upon the +table. + +For the first time in years, the old Corner House resounded to the +laughter and conversation of a great company. There was music, too, +and Ruth opened the parlors for the first time. They all danced in +those big rooms. + +Mr. Howbridge proved to be a very nice guardian indeed. He allowed +Ruth to do pretty much everything she wanted. But, then, Ruth Kenway +was not a girl to desire anything that was not good and sensible. + +“It’s dreadfully nice to feel _settled_,” said Tess to Dot and Maria +Maroni, and Margaret and Holly Pease, and the three Creamer girls, as +they all crowded into the summer house the afternoon of the ghost +laying party. + +“Now we _know_ we’re going to stay here, so we can make plans for the +future,” pursued Tess. + +“Yes,” observed Dot. “I’m going right to work to make my Alice-doll a +new dress. She hasn’t had anything fit to wear since that awful time +she was buried alive.” + +“Buried alive!” shrieked Mabel Creamer. “How was _that_?” + +“Yes. And they buried her with some dried apples,” sighed Dot. “She’s +never been the same since. You see, her eyes are bad. I ought to take +her to an eye and ear infernery, I s’pose; but maybe even the doctors +there couldn’t help her.” + +“I don’t think it’s _infernery_, Dot,” said Tess, slowly. “That +doesn’t sound just right. It sounds more like a conservatory than a +hospital.” + +“Well, _hospital_, then!” exclaimed Dot. “And poor Alice! I don’t +suppose she ever _will_ get the color back into her cheeks.” + +“Shouldn’t think she would, if she’s been buried alive,” said Mabel, +blankly. + +The two youngest Kenways had been very glad to see Lillie Treble go +away, but this was almost the only comment they ever made upon that +angel-faced child, before company. Tess and Dot _were_ polite! + +That was a lovely day, and the Corner House girls all enjoyed the +party immensely. Good Mrs. McCall was delighted, too. She had come to +love Ruth and Agnes and Tess and Dot, almost as though they were her +own. Ruth had already engaged a strong girl to help about the kitchen +work, and the widow had a much easier time at the old Corner House +than she had at first had. + +Aunt Sarah appeared at the party, when the dancing began, in a new cap +and with her knitting. She had subsided into her old self again, +immediately after her discovery of Uncle Peter’s secret panel in the +old secretary in the garret. She talked no more than had been her +wont, and her knitting needles clicked quite as sharply. Perhaps, +however, she took a more kindly interest in the affairs of the Corner +House girls. + +She was not alone in that. All the neighbors, and the church +people—indeed everybody in Milton who knew Ruth Kenway and her +sisters at all—had a deep interest in the fortunes of the Corner +House girls. + +“They are a town institution,” said Mr. Howbridge. “There is no +character sweeter and finer than that of Ruth Kenway. Her sisters, +too, in their several ways, are equally charming. + +“Ruth—Agnes—Tess—Dot! For an old bachelor like me, who has known no +family—to secure the confidence and liking of such a quartette of +young folk, is a privilege I fully appreciate. I am proud of them!” + + +THE END + + + + +Charming Stories for Girls + +THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SERIES + +By GRACE BROOKS HILL + +Four girls from eight to fourteen years of age receive word that a +rich bachelor uncle has died, leaving them the old Corner House he +occupied. They move into it and then the fun begins. What they find +and do will provoke many a hearty laugh. Later, they enter school and +make many friends. One of these invites the girls to spend a few weeks +at a bungalow owned by her parents, and the adventures they meet with +make very interesting reading. Clean, wholesome stories of humor and +adventure, sure to appeal to all young girls. + + 1 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS. + 2 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AT SCHOOL. + 3 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS UNDER CANVAS. + 4 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS IN A PLAY. + 5 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS’ ODD FIND. + 6 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A TOUR. + 7 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS GROWING UP. + 8 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SNOWBOUND. + 9 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON A HOUSEBOAT. + 10 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS AMONG THE GYPSIES. + 11 CORNER HOUSE GIRLS ON PALM ISLAND. + 12 THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS SOLVE A MYSTERY. + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J. + + + + +THE POLLY PENDELTON SERIES + +By DOROTHY WHITEHILL + +Polly Pendleton is a resourceful, wide-awake American girl who goes to +a boarding school on the Hudson River some miles above New York. By +her pluck and resourcefulness, she soon makes a place for herself and +this she holds right through the course. The account of boarding +school life is faithful and pleasing and will attract every girl in +her teens. + + 1 POLLY’S FIRST YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL + 2 POLLY’S SUMMER VACATION + 3 POLLY’S SENIOR YEAR AT BOARDING SCHOOL + 4 POLLY SEES THE WORLD AT WAR + 5 POLLY AND LOIS + 6 POLLY AND BOB + 7 POLLY’S REUNION + +Cloth. Large 12mo. Illustrated. + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +Publishers + +New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J. + + + + +CHICKEN LITTLE JANE SERIES + +By LILY MUNSELL RITCHIE + +Chicken Little Jane is a Western prairie girl who lives a happy, +outdoor life in a country where there is plenty of room to turn +around. She is a wide-awake, resourceful girl who will instantly win +her way into the hearts of other girls. And what good times she +has!—with her pets, her friends, and her many interests. “Chicken +Little” is the affectionate nickname given to her when she is very, +very good, but when she misbehaves it is “Jane”—just Jane! + + Adventures of Chicken Little Jane + Chicken Little Jane on the “Big John” + Chicken Little Jane Comes to Town + +_With numerous illustrations in pen and ink_ + +_By_ CHARLES D. HUBBARD + + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J. + + + + +THE MARY JANE SERIES + +By CLARA INGRAM JUDSON + +Cloth, 12mo. Illustrated. + +Mary Jane is the typical American little girl who bubbles over with +fun and the good things in life. We meet her here on a visit to her +grandfather’s farm where she becomes acquainted with farm life and +farm animals and thoroughly enjoys the experience. We next see her +going to kindergarten and then on a visit to Florida, and then—but +read the stories for yourselves. + +Exquisitely and charmingly written are these books which every little +girl from five to nine years old will want from the first book to the +last. + + 1 MARY JANE—HER BOOK + 2 MARY JANE—HER VISIT + 3 MARY JANE’S KINDERGARTEN + 4 MARY JANE DOWN SOUTH + 5 MARY JANE’S CITY HOME + 6 MARY JANE IN NEW ENGLAND + 7 MARY JANE’S COUNTRY HOME + 8 MARY JANE AT SCHOOL + 9 MARY JANE IN CANADA + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +Publishers + +New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J. + + + + +DOROTHY WHITEHILL SERIES + +_For Girls_ + +Here is a sparkling new series of stories for girls—just what they +will like, and ask for more of the same kind. It is all about twin +sisters, who for the first few years in their lives grow up in +ignorance of each other’s existence. Then they are at last brought +together and things begin to happen. Janet is an independent go-ahead +sort of girl; while her sister Phyllis is—but meet the twins for +yourself and be entertained. + +6 Titles, Cloth, large 12mo., + +Covers in color. + + 1. JANET, A TWIN + 2. PHYLLIS, A TWIN + 3. THE TWINS IN THE WEST + 4. THE TWINS IN THE SOUTH + 5. THE TWINS’ SUMMER VACATION + 6. THE TWINS AND TOMMY JR. + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +_PUBLISHERS_ + +NEWARK, N. J.—NEW YORK, N. Y. + + + + +FAMOUS AMERICANS FOR YOUNG READERS + +“Life Stories with the Charm of Fiction” + +“This new series is timely. As an urgent civic need, our +schools should be vivified more by the spirit of the founders +and builders of the Republic.” + + WALTER E. RANGER, Commissioner of Education, Rhode Island. + +“I regard the series one of rare usefulness for young +readers, and trust it will become a formidable rival for much +of the fiction now in circulation among the young.” + + JOHNSON BRIGHAM, State Librarian, Iowa. + +Titles Ready + + “GEORGE WASHINGTON” Joseph Walker + “JOHN PAUL JONES” Chelsea C. Fraser + “BENJAMIN FRANKLIN” Clara Tree Major + “DAVID CROCKETT” Jane Corby + “THOMAS JEFFERSON” Gene Stone + “ABRAHAM LINCOLN” J. Walker McSpadden + “ROBERT FULTON” Inez N. McFee + “THOMAS A. EDISON” Inez N. McFee + “HARRIET BEECHER STOWE” Ruth Brown MacArthur + “MARY LYON” H. Oxley Stengel + “THEODORE ROOSEVELT” J. Walker McSpadden + +Illustrated. Size 5-1/8 × 7-5/8. Cloth. + +OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION + +BARSE & HOPKINS + +Publishers + +New York, N. Y.—Newark, N. J. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CORNER HOUSE GIRLS +HOW THEY +MOVED TO MILTON, WHAT THEY FOUND, AND WHAT THEY DID ***
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