CHAPTER V
THE FRECKLE-FACED GIRL
Of the two young fellows hurrying in from the boulevard one was talland slim and dark; the other was stocky--almost plump, in fact--andsandy of complexion, with sharp, twinkling pond-blue eyes. BurdwellAlling's eyes were truly the only handsome feature he possessed. Buthe had a wonderfully sweet disposition.
Darry Drew was one of those quiet, gentlemanly fellows, who seemrather too sober for their years. Yet he possessed humor enough, andthere certainly was no primness about him. It was he who hailed Jessieon the ground and Amy leaning out of the window above:
"I say, fellows! Have you seen a couple of young ladies around herewho have just finished their junior year at the New Melford High withflying colors? We expected to find them sitting high and dry on thefront porch, ready to receive company."
"Sure we did," added Burd Alling. "They have taken the highest degreein Prunes and Prisms and have been commended by their instructors forexcellent deportment. And among all the calicos, they are supposed totake the bun as prudes."
Amy actually almost fell out of the window again, and stuck out hertongue like an impudent urchin. "A pair of smarties," she scoffed."Come home and fret our ears with your college slang. How dare you!"
"I declare! Is that Miss Amy Drew?" demanded Burd, sticking a halfdollar in his eye like a monocle and apparently observing Amy for thefirst time.
"It is not," said Amy sharply. "Brush by! I don't speak to strangeyoung men."
But Darry had come to Jessie and shaken hands. If she flushedself-consciously, it only improved her looks.
"Awfully glad to see you, Jess," the tall young fellow said.
"It's nice to have you home again, Darry," she returned.
Amy ran down again then, in her usual harum-scarum fashion, and theconversation became general. How had the girls finished theirhigh-school year? And how had the boys managed to stay a whole year atYale without being asked to leave for the good of the undergraduatebody?
Was the _Marigold_ a real yacht, or just a row-boat with a kickerbehind? And what were the girls doing in their present fetchingcostumes?
"The wires!" cried Burd. "Is it a trapeze? Are we to have a summercircus in Roselawn?"
"We shall have if you remain around here," was Amy's saucy reply. "Butyon is no trapeze, I'd have you know."
"A slack wire? Who walks it--you or Jess?"
"Aw, Burd!" ejaculated Darry. "It's radio. Don't you recognize anaerial when you see it?"
"You have a fine ground connection," scoffed Burd.
"Don't you worry about us," Jessie took heart to say. "We know justwhat to do. Go upstairs again, Amy, and haul up this end of thecontraption. I've got it untwisted."
A little later, when the aerial was secure and Jessie went practicallyto work affixing the ground connection, Darrington Drew said:
"Why, I believe you girls do know what you are about."
"Don't you suppose we girls know anything at all, Darry?" demanded hissister from overhead. "You boys have very little on us."
"Don't even want us to help you?" handsome Darry asked, grinning up ather.
"Not unless you approach the matter with the proper spirit," Jessieput in. "No lofty, high-and-mighty way goes with us girls. We can bemet only on a plane of equality. But if you want to," she added,smiling, "you can go up to my room where Amy is and pull that ropetauter. I admit that your masculine muscles have their uses."
They were still having a lot of fun out of the securing of the aerialswhen suddenly Burd Alling discovered a figure planted on the gravelbehind him. He swept off his cap in an elaborate bow, and cried:
"We have company! Introduce me, Amy--Jess. This young lady----"
"Smarty!" croaked a hoarse voice. "I don't want to be introducted tonobody. I want to know if you've seen Bertha."
"Big Bertha?" began Burd, who was as much determined on joking as Amyherself.
But Jessie Norwood, her attention drawn to the freckle-faced child whostood there so composedly, motioned Burd to halt. She approached andin her usual kindly manner asked what the strange child wanted.
It really was difficult to look soberly at the little thing. She mighthave been twelve years old, but she was so slight and undernourishedlooking that it was hard to believe she had reached that age. She hadno more color than putty. And her sharp little face was so bespattedwith freckles that one could scarcely see what its real expressionwas.
"Bertha who?" Jessie asked quietly. "What Bertha are you lookingfor?"
"Cousin Bertha. She's an orphan like me," said the freckled littlegirl. "I ain't got anybody that belongs to me but Bertha; and Berthaain't got anybody that belongs to her but me."
Burd and Amy were still inclined to be amused. But Darry Drew took hiscue from Jessie, if he did not find a sympathetic cord touched in hisown nature by the child's speech and her forlorn appearance.
For she was forlorn. She wore no denim uniform, such as Amy hadmentioned on a previous occasion as being the mark of the usual"orphan." But it was quite plain that the freckle-faced girl hadnobody to care much for her, or about her.
"I wish you would explain a little more, dear," said Jessie, kindly."Why did you come here to ask for your Cousin Bertha?"
"'Cause I'm asking at every house along this street. I told Mrs. FoleyI would, and she said I was a little fool," and the child made thestatement quite as a matter of course.
"Who is Mrs. Foley?"
"She's the lady I help. When Mom died Mrs. Foley lived in the nexttenement. She took me. She brought me out here to Dogtown when shemoved."
"Why," breathed Amy, with a shudder, "she's one of those awful Dogtownchildren."
"Put a stopper on that, Amy!" exclaimed Darry, promptly.
But the freckle-faced girl heard her. She glared at the oldergirl--the girl so much better situated than herself. Her pale eyessnapped.
"You don't haf to touch me," she said sharply. "I won't poison you."
"Oh, Amy!" murmured her chum.
But Amy Drew was not at all bad at heart, or intentionally unkind. Sheflamed redly and the tears sprang to her eyes.
"Oh! I didn't mean--Forgive me, little girl! What is your name? I'llhelp you find your cousin."
"My name's Henrietta. They call me Hen. You needn't mind gushin' overme. I know how you feel. I'd feel just the same if I wore your clo'esand you wore mine."
"By ginger!" exclaimed Burd Alling, under his breath. "There isphilosophy for you."
But Jessie felt hurt that Amy should have spoken so thoughtlesslyabout the strange child. She took Henrietta's grimy hand and led thefreckled girl to the side steps where they could sit down.
"Now tell me about Bertha and why you are looking for her alongBonwit Boulevard," said Jessie.
"Do you wear these pants all the time?" asked Henrietta, suddenly,smoothing Jessie's overalls. "I believe I'd like to wear 'em, too.They are something like little Billy Foley's rompers."
"I don't wear them all the time," said Jessie, patiently. "But aboutBertha?"
"She's my cousin. She lived with us before Mom died. She went away towork. Something happened there where she worked. I guess I don't knowwhat it was. But Bertha wrote to me--I can read written letters,"added the child proudly. "Bertha said she was coming out to see methis week. And she didn't come."
"But why should you think----"
"Lemme tell you," said Henrietta eagerly. "That woman that hiredBertha came to Foleys day before yesterday trying to find Bertha. Shesaid Bertha'd run away from her. But Bertha had a right to run away.Didn't she?"
"I don't know. I suppose so. Unless the woman had adopted her, orsomething," confessed Jessie, rather puzzled.
"Bertha wasn't no more adopted than I am. Mrs. Foley ain't adopted me.I wouldn't want to be a Foley. And if you are adopted you have to takethe name of the folks you live with. So Bertha wasn't adopted, andshe had a right to run away. But she didn't get to Dogtown."
"But you think she might have come this way?
"
"Yep. She's never been to see me since we moved to Dogtown. So shemaybe lost her way. Or she saw that woman and was scared. I'm lookingto see if anybody seen her," said the child, getting up briskly. "Iguess you folks ain't, has you?"
"I am afraid not," said Jessie thoughtfully. "But we will be on thelookout for her, honey. You can come back again and ask me any timeyou like."
The freckle-faced child looked her over curiously. "What do you saythat for?" she demanded. "You don't like me. I ain't pretty. Andyou're pretty--and that other girl," (she said this rather grudgingly)"even if you do wear overalls."
"Why! I want to help you," said Jessie, somewhat startled by thestrange girl's downright way of speaking.
"You got a job for me up here?" asked Henrietta promptly. "I guess I'drather work for you than for the Foleys."
"Don't the Foleys treat you kindly?" Amy ventured, really feeling aninterest in the strange child.
"Guess she treats me as kind as a lady can when she's got six kidsand a man that drinks," Henrietta said with weariness. "But I'd liketo wear better clo'es. I wouldn't mind even wearing them overallthings while I worked if I had better to wear other times."
She looked down at her faded gingham, the patched stockings, thebroken shoes. She wore no hat. Really, she was a miserable-lookinglittle thing, and the four more fortunate young people all consideredthis fact silently as Henrietta moved slowly away and went down thepath to the street.
"Come and see me again, Henrietta!" Jessie called after her.
The freckled child nodded. But she did not look around. Darry saidrather soberly:
"Too bad about the kid. We ought to do something for her."
"To begin with, a good, soapy bath," said his sister, vigorously, butnot unkindly.
"She's the limit," chuckled Burd. "Hen is some bird, I'll say!"
"I wonder----" began Jessie, but Amy broke in with:
"To think of her hunting up and down the boulevard for her cousin. Andshe didn't even tell us what Bertha looked like or how old she is, oranything. My!"
"I wonder if we ought not to have asked her for more particulars,"murmured Jessie. "It is strange we should hear of another girl thathad run away----"
But the others paid no attention at the moment to what Jessie wassaying. It was plain that Amy did not at all comprehend what her chumconsidered. The lively one had forgotten altogether about the unknowngirl she and Jessie had seen borne away in the big French car.
SOMETHING COMING
The Campfire Girls of Roselawn; Or, a Strange Message from the Air Page 5