Ruth Fielding At College; or, The Missing Examination Papers

by Alice B. Emerson

  CHAPTER XX

  TWO SURPRISES

  Ruth Fielding knew that Rebecca Frayne was painfully embarrassed formoney. She managed to find the wherewithal for her board, and hertextbooks of course had been paid for at the beginning of the collegeyear. But there are always incidentals and unforeseen small expenses,which crop up in a most unexpected manner and clamor for payment.

  Rebecca never opened her lips about these troubles, despite the factthat she loved Ruth and was much with the girl of the Red Mill. But Ruthwas keen-eyed. She knew that Rebecca suffered for articles of clothing.She saw that her raiment was becoming very, very shabby.

  The girl in this trouble was foolish, of course. But foolishness is adisease not so easily cured. There was not the slightest chance ofgiving Rebecca anything that she needed; Ruth knew that quite well. Herfinery--and cheap enough it was--the girl would flaunt to the bitterend.

  Deep down she was a good girl in every respect; but she did put on airsand ape the wealthy girls she saw. What garments she owned had beenultra-fashionable in cut, if poor in texture, when she had come tocollege. But fashions change so frequently nowadays that already poorRebecca Frayne was behind the styles--and she knew it and grievedbitterly.

  Most of her mates at Dare Hall, the freshmen especially, usually dressedin short cloth skirts and middy blouses, with a warm coat over all incold weather. Would Rebecca be caught going to classes in such anoutfit? Not much! That was why her better clothes wore out so quicklyand now looked so shabby. Jennie Stone said, with disgust, and with morethan a little truth, perhaps:

  "That girl primps to go to recitations just as though she were bound fora party. I don't see how she finds time for study."

  Ruth realized that Rebecca was made that way, and that was all there wasto it. She wasted no strength, nor did she run the risk of being badfriends with the unwise girl, by criticising these silly things. Ruthbelieved in being helpful, or else keeping still.

  Rebecca could never be induced to try to do the things that other poorgirls did at college to help pay their expenses. Perhaps she was notreally fitted for such services, and would only have failed.

  Other girls acted as waitresses, did sewing, one looked after the linenfor one of the dormitories, another darned hose and repaired lingerie.Dr. Frances Milroth's own personal secretary was a junior who wasworking her way through Ardmore and was taking a high mark, too, in herstudies.

  One girl helped Mrs. Leidenburg with her children during several hoursof each day. Some girls were agents for articles which their collegemates were glad to secure easily and quickly.

  Indeed, the field of endeavor seemed rather well covered, and it wouldhave been hard to discover anything new for Rebecca Frayne to do, hadthe girl even been willing to "go into trade," a thing Rebecca had toldRuth a Frayne had never done.

  This attitude of the Frayne family seemed quite ridiculous to Ruth, butshe knew it was absolutely useless to scold Rebecca.

  Indeed, it was not Ruth Fielding's way to be a scold. If she could notbe helpful she preferred to ignore that which she saw was wrong. And inRebecca Frayne's case she was determined to be helpful if she could.Rebecca was a bright scholar. After all, she would shine in her classbefore all was said and done. They could not afford to lose such areally bright girl from among the freshmen.

  Often on stormy days Ruth spent the time between recitations and dinnerin Rebecca's room.

  "I never saw anybody so fond of old papers as you are, Ruthie," Rebeccasaid. "Do take 'em all if you like. Of course, I'll never be sillyenough to carry them back home with me. They are only useful to helpbuild the fire."

  "Don't dare destroy one of them, Rebecca Frayne!" Ruth had warnedher--and actually made her promise that she would not do so.

  Then the replies to Ruth's letters came. She had gone all through thebundles of papers by this time, arranged them according to their datesof issue, and wrapped the different years' issues in strong paper.Rebecca could not see for the life of her, she said, what Ruth wasabout.

  "Surely they can't be worth much as old paper, Ruthie. I know you are aregular little business woman; but junk men aren't allowed on thecollege grounds."

  "Expressmen are, my dear," laughed Ruth.

  "What do you mean? What _are_ you going to do with those papers?"

  "You said you didn't care----"

  "And I don't. They are yours to do with as you please," said thegenerous Rebecca Frayne.

  "To punish you," Ruth said seriously, "I ought really to take you atyour word," and she shook her head.

  "What meanest thou, my fair young lady?" asked Rebecca, laughing.

  "Read this," commanded Ruth, handing her, with the air of the stage hero"producing the papers," one of the letters she had received. "Cast yourglance over this, Miss Frayne."

  The other received the letter curiously, and read it with dawningsurprise. She read it twice and then gazed at Ruth with almostspeechless amazement.

  "Well! what do you think of your Aunt Ruth _now_?" demanded the girl ofthe Red Mill, laughing.

  "It--it can't be _so_, Ruthie!" murmured Rebecca Frayne, the hand whichheld the letter fairly shaking.

  "It's just as _so_ as it can be," and Ruth continued to laugh.

  The tears suddenly flooded into Rebecca's eyes. She could not turnquickly enough to hide them from Ruth's keen vision. But all she saidwas:

  "Well, Ruthie! I congratulate you. Think of it! Two hundred dollarsoffered for each set of those old papers. Well!"

  "You see, it would scarcely have been wise to have built the fire withthem," Ruth said drily.

  "I--I should say not. And--and they have lain in our attic for years."

  "And you brought them to college as waste paper," Ruth added.

  Rebecca was silent. Ruth, smiling roguishly, stole up behind her.Suddenly she put both arms around Rebecca Frayne and hugged her tight.

  "Becky! Don't you understand?" she cried.

  "Understand what?" Rebecca asked gruffly, trying to dash away her fewtears.

  "Why, honey, I did it for _you_. I believed the papers must be worthsomething. I had heard of a set of New York illustrated papers for theyears of the Civil War selling for a big price. These, I believed, mustbe even more interesting to collectors of such things.

  "So I wrote to Mr. Cameron, and he sent me the names of old bookdealers, and _they_ sent me the addresses of several collectors. ThisMr. Radley has a regular museum of such things, and he offers the bestprice--four hundred dollars for the lot if they prove to be as perfectas I said they were. And they _are_."

  "Yes--but----"

  "And, of course, the money is yours, Rebecca," said Ruth, promptly. "Youdon't for a moment suppose that I would take your valuable papers andcheat you out of the reward just because I happened to know more abouttheir worth than you did? What do you take me for?"

  "Oh--oh, Ruthie!"

  "What do you take me for?" again demanded Ruth Fielding, quite as thoughshe were offended.

  "For the best and dearest girl who ever lived!" cried Rebecca Frayne,and cast herself upon Ruth's breast, holding her tightly while shesobbed there.

  This was one surprise. But there was another later, and this was asurprise for Ruth herself.

  She was very glad to have been the means of finding Rebecca such a nicelittle fortune as this that came to her for the old periodicals. Withwhat the girl's brother could send her, Rebecca would be pretty sure ofsufficient money to carry her through her freshman year and pay for hersecond year's tuition at Ardmore.

  "Something may be found then for Rebecca to do," thought Ruth, "thatwill not so greatly shock her notions of gentility. Dear me! she's asnice a girl as ever lived; but she is a problem."

  Ruth had other problems, however, on her mind. One of these broughtabout the personal surprise mentioned above. She had found time finallyto complete the scenario of "Crossed Wires," and after some changes hadbeen made in it, Mr. Hammond had informed her that it would be put inthe hands of a director for productio
n. It called for so many outdoorscenes, however, that the new film would not be made until spring.

  Spring was now fast approaching, and Ruth determined to be at the RedMill on a visit when the first scenes were taken for her photo-drama.

  Of course, if she went, Helen must go. They stood excellently well inall their classes, and it was not hard to persuade Dr. Milroth, who hadgood reports of both freshmen, to let them go to Cheslow.

  Ruth's coming home was in the nature of a surprise to Uncle Jabez andAunt Alvirah. The old housekeeper was outspoken in her joy at seeing"her pretty" once more. Uncle Jabez was startled into perhaps a warmergreeting of his niece than he ordinarily considered advisable.

  "I declare for't, Ruth! Ain't nothin' the matter, is there?" he asked,holding her hand and staring into her face with serious intent.

  "Oh, no, Uncle. Nothing at all the matter. Just ran home to see how youall were, and to watch them take the pictures of the old mill."

  "Ain't lost any of that money, have ye?" persisted the miller.

  "Not a penny. And Mr. Hammond sent me a nice check on account ofroyalties, too," and she dimpled and laughed at him.

  "All right," grunted Uncle Jabez. "Ye wanter watch out for that theremoney. Business is onsartain. Ain't no knowin' when everything'll go topot _here_. I never see the times so hard."

  But Ruth was not much disturbed by such talk. Uncle Jabez had beenprophesying disaster ever since she had known him.

  Maggie welcomed Ruth cordially, as well as Ben. Maggie was still thepuzzling combination of characteristics that she had seemed to Ruth fromthe first. She was willing to work, and was kind to Aunt Alvirah; butshe always withdrew into herself if anybody tried to talk much to her.

  The others at the Red Mill had become used to the girl's reticence; butto Ruth it remained just as tantalizing. She had the feeling that Maggiewas by no means in her right environment.

  "Doesn't she ever write letters?" Ruth asked Aunt Alvirah. "Doesn't sheever have a visitor?"

  "Why, bless ye, my pretty! I don't know as she writes much," AuntAlvirah said, as she moved about the kitchen in her old slow fashion."Oh, my back! and oh, my bones! Well Ruthie, she reads a lot. She's allfor books, I guess, like you be. But she don't never talk much. And avisitor? Why, come to think on't, she did have one visitor."

  "Is that so?" cried the curious Ruth. "Let's hear about it. I feelgossipy, Aunt Alvirah," and she laughed.

  She knew that Maggie was away from the house, and they were alone. Shecould trust Aunt Alvirah to say nothing to the girl regarding herqueries.

  "Yes, my pretty," the old woman said, "she did have one visitor. Anothergal come to see her the very week you went away to college, Ruthie."

  "Is that so? Who was she?"

  "Maggie didn't say. I didn't ask her. Ye see, she ain't one ter confidein a body," explained Aunt Alvirah, shaking her head and loweringherself into her rocking chair. "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!"

  "But didn't you see this visitor?"

  "Why, yes, Ruthie. I seen her. It was funny, too," Aunt Alvirah said,shaking her head. "I meant to write to you about it; then I forgot.

  "I hears somebody knock on the door one day, and I opened the door andthere I declare stood Maggie herself. Or, I thought 'twas her."

  "What?" gasped Ruth, very much interested.

  "She looked a sight like her," said Aunt Alvirah, laughing to herself atthe remembrance. "Yet I knowed Maggie had gone upstairs to make thebeds, and this here girl who had knocked on the door was all dressedup."

  "'Why, Maggie!' says I. And she says, kinder tart-like:

  "'I ain't Maggie. But I want to see her.'

  "So I axed her in; but she wouldn't come. I seen then maybe she was alittle younger than Maggie is. Howsomever I called to Maggie, and shewent out, and the two of 'em walked up and down the road for an hour.The other gal never come in. And I seen her start back toward Cheslow.Maggie never said no word about her from that day to this.

  "Do you know what I think about it, Ruthie?" concluded Aunt Alvirah.

  "No, Aunt Alvirah," said the girl of the Red Mill, reflectively.

  "I think that was Maggie's sister. Maybe she works out for somebody inCheslow."

  Ruth merely nodded. She did not think much of that phase of the matter.What she was really puzzling over was her memory of the girl she andHelen had interviewed on the island in Lake Remona before the Christmasholidays.

  That girl had looked very much like Maggie, too!