Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm; Or, What Became of the Raby Orphans
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CHAPTER VIII--TRAVELING TOWARD SUNRISE FARM
Tom Cameron thought a great deal of Ruth, and for that reason alone wassorry he had not stayed the departure of the runaway girl, Sadie Raby,from the vicinity of Cheslow. Then, as he thought of it more, and heardthe girls talk about the tramping girl's circumstances as _they_ knewthem, Tom was even more disturbed.
He and Reno had gotten into the tonneau of the car, which rolled awaytoward the Red Mill at a slower pace. He leaned his arms on the back ofthe front seat and listened to Ruth's story of her meeting with SadieRaby, and her experience with Sim Perkins, and of her surprise atfinding that Sadie had worked for a while at the Red Mill.
"If we had only been a few days earlier in getting home from school,there she would have been," finished Ruth, with a sigh.
"That's so," agreed her chum. "And she even stayed night before lastwith Mercy's mother. My! but she's as elusive as a will-o'-the-wisp."
"We could telegraph to Campton and have her stopped," suggested Tom.
"By the police?" demanded his sister.
"Oh! what for?" asked Ruth.
"There! nothing _I_ suggest is any good," said the boy.
"Not unless you suggest something better than that," laughed Ruth. "Thepoor thing doesn't need to be arrested. And she might refuse any help wecould give her. She's very independent."
"She sure is," admitted Tom, ruefully.
"And we don't know _why_ she wanted to go to Campton," his sisterremarked.
"Nor if she got there safely," added Ruth.
"Pshaw! if that's worrying you two, I'll find out for sure to-morrow,"quoth Master Tom.
He knew the conductor of the freight train with whom he had entrustedthe strange girl. The next day he went over to the tank at the righthour and met the conductor again.
"Sure, I got her on to Campton--poor kid," said the man. "She's a smartone, too. When the boys wanted to know who she was, I said she was myniece, and she nodded and agreed to it. We had a big feed back here inthe hack while she was aboard, and she had her share."
"But where was she going?" asked Tom.
"Didn't get much out of her," admitted the conductor. "But she'd livedin Harburg, and I reckon she had folks in or near Campton. But I'm notsure at all."
This was rather unsatisfactory; but whatever point the strange girl wasjourneying to, she had arrived safely at Campton. This Tom told Ruth andthe latter had to be content with this information.
The incident of the runaway girl was two or three days old when Ruthreceived a letter from Madge Steele urging them all to come on soon--thatSunrise Farm was ready for them, and that she was writing all the girlsto start on Monday.
The train would take them to Darrowtown. There a conveyance would meetand transport the visitors fifteen miles through the country to Mr.Steele's big estate.
Mercy Curtis joined the Camerons and Ruth at the Cheslow Station, and onthe train they boarded were Heavy Stone and The Fox. The girls greetedeach other as though they had been separated for a year.
"Never was such a clatter of tongues," declared the plump girl, "sincethe workmen struck on the tower of Babel. Here we are--off for thesunrise--and traveling due west. How do you make that out?"
"That's easy--anybody could see it with half an eye," said The Fox.
"Half an eye, eh?" demanded Heavy. "And Cyclops had a whole one. Say!did you hear about the boy in school who was asked by his teacher (hemust have been in Tommy's class) 'Who was Cyclops?' He was a bright boy.He answered: 'The man who wrote the encyclopaedia.' The association ofideas was something fierce--eh?"
"Dear me, Jennie," admonished The Fox, "you are getting slangier everyday."
"Never mind; I'm not losing flesh over it. Don't you," returned thecareless "heavyweight."
It was a long, but not a tedious, ride to Darrowtown. The young folk hadleft Cheslow just before dark, and their sleeper was sidetracked at theend of the journey, some time in the very early morning. When Ruth firstopened her eyes she could scarcely--for the moment--think where she was.
Then she peered out of the narrow window above her berth and saw asection of the railroad yard and one side of Railroad Avenue beyond. Theright of way split Darrowtown in two halves and there were gradecrossings at the intersections of the principal cross streets.
Long as she had been away from the place, the girl recognized the housesand the stores, and every other landmark she could see. No further sleepfor her, although it was scarcely dawn.
She hopped softly out of the berth, disturbed none of her companions oreven the porter nodding in his corner, and dressed hurriedly. She madeher toilette and then went into the vestibule and from thence climbeddown to the cinder path.
There was an opening in the picket fence, and she slipped through in amoment. Dear old Darrowtown! Ruth's heart throbbed exultantly and shesmiled, although there were tears in her eyes.
There was the Brick Church on the corner. The pastor and his wife hadbeen so kind to her! And up this next street was the way to the quietcemetery where her father and mother were buried. Ruth turned her stepsin that direction first of all.
The sun came up, red and jovial; the birds twittered and sang in thegreat maples along the way; even in the graveyard a great flock ofblackbirds "pumped" and squeaked in noisy, joyous chorus.
The dew sparkled on leaf and bush, the flowers were fragrant, the coolbreeze fanned her cheek, and the bird chorus rose higher and higher. Howcould one be sad long on such a beautiful, God-made morning?
Impossible! Ruth plucked a spray of a flowering shrub for both graves,and laid them on the mounds tenderly, with a little prayer. Here sleptthe dead peacefully, and God had raised her up many, many friends!
The early chimneys were smoking in the suburbs of the town. Ascreen-door slammed now and then. One man whom she knew slightly, butwho did not remember her, was currying his horse in an alley by hisstable. Mrs. Barnsworth, notably the smartest housewife in Darrowtown,was starting already with her basket for market--and woe be to the groceror marketman if the shops were not open when she arrived!
Stray cats ran along the back fences. A dog ran out of a yard to bark atRuth, but then thought better of it and came to be patted instead.
And then, suddenly, she came in sight of the back garden of Miss TruePettis!
It was with that kind-hearted but peculiar spinster lady that Ruth hadlived previous to being sent to the Red Mill. Miss Pettis was theneighborhood seamstress and, as she often had told Ruth, she worked hard"with both tongue and needle" for every dollar she earned.
For Miss True Pettis had something more than dressmaking to do when shewent out "by the day" to cut and fit and run the sewing machine.Darrowtown folk expected that the seamstress should have all the latestgossip at her tongue's end when she came to sew!
Now, Miss True Pettis often laid down the law. "There's two kinds ofgossip. One the Bible calls the seventh abomination, an' I guess that'sright. But for shut-in folks like most housekeepers in Darrowtown, adish of harmless gossip is more inspiritin' than a bowl of boneset tea!
"Lemme have somethin' new to tell folks about folks--that's all. But itmust be somethin' kind," Miss Pettis declared. "No backbitin', or churchscandal, or neighborhood rows. If Si Lumpkin's cat has scratchedAmoskeag Lanfell's dog, let the cat and the dog fight it out, I say; noneed for Si and Amoskeag, who have been friends and neighbors for yearsan' years, gettin' into a ruction over it.
"I never take sides in any controversy--no, ma'am! If ye can't say a goodword for a neighbor, don't say nothin' to _me_. That's what I tell 'em.But if ye know anythin' good about 'em, or they've had any streak o'good luck, or the like, tell me. For the folks in this town--'speciallythe wimmen folks that don't git out much--is just a-honin' for news, andTrue Pettis, when she goes out by the day, has gotter have a full andplenty supply of it."
Ruth, smiling quietly to herself, remembered how the thin, sallow, quickspoken lady looked when she said all this. Miss Pettis's eyes were blackand snapping; he
r nose was a beak; she bit off threads as though hertemper was biting, too. But Ruth knew better. A kinder-hearted mortalnever lived than the little old seamstress.
Now the visitor ran across the garden--neatly bedded and with graveledpaths in which the tiniest weed dared not show its head--and reached thekitchen porch. Miss Pettis was always an early riser, and the smoke ofher chimney was now only a faint blue column rising into the clear air.
Yes! there was a rattle of dishes in the kitchen. Ruth tiptoed up thesteps. Then she--to her amazement--heard somebody groan. The sound wasrepeated, and then the seamstress's voice murmured:
"Oh, dear, oh, dear! Oh, dear, oh, dear! whatever shall I do----"
Ruth, who had intended opening the door softly and announcing that shehad come to breakfast, forgot all about the little surprise she was benton giving Miss Pettis. Now she peered fearfully in at the nearestwindow.
Miss Pettis was just sitting down in her rocker, and she rocked to andfro, holding one hand with the other, continuing to groan.
"Oh, dear, me!" cried Ruth, bursting in at the door. "What in the worldis the matter, my dear?"
"It's that dratted felon---- Why, Ruthie Fielding! Did you drop from thesky, or pop up out o' the ground? I never!"
The dressmaker got up quickly, but struck her hand against thechair-arm. Instantly she fell back with a scream, and Ruth feared shehad fainted. A felon is a terribly painful thing!
Ruth ran for a glass of water, but before she could sprinkle any of iton Miss Pettis' pale face the lady's eyes opened and she exclaimed:
"Don't drop any of that on my dress, child--it'll spot. I'm all rightnow. My mercy! how that hurt."
"A felon, Miss Pettis? How very dreadful," cried Ruth, setting down theglass of water.
"And I ain't been able to use my needle for a week, and thedishwashin'--well, it jest about kills me to put my hands in water. Youcan see--the sight this kitchen is."
"Now, isn't it lucky that I came this morning--and came so early, too?"cried Ruth. "I was going to take breakfast with you. Now I'll get thebreakfast myself and fix up the house---- Oh, yes, I shall! I'll send worddown to the hotel to my friends--they'll take breakfast there--and we canhave a nice visit, Miss True," and Ruth very carefully hugged the thinshoulders of the seamstress, so as not to even jar the felon on herright fore-finger.