Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm; Or, What Became of the Raby Orphans

by Alice B. Emerson

  CHAPTER XV--THE TEMPEST

  Ruth was much interested in the fresh air children, and so was Helen.They found time to walk down to the Caslon farm and become acquaintedwith the entire twelve. Naturally, the "terrible twins" held theirattention more than the others, for it _did_ seem so strange that thelittle brothers of Sadie Raby should come across Ruth's path in justthis way.

  Of course, in getting so well acquainted with the children, Ruth and herchum were bound to know the farmer and his wife better. They were veryplain, "homey" sort of people, just as Ruth had guessed, and it appearedthat they were not blessed with an over-abundance of ready money. Fewfarmers in Mr. Caslon's circumstances are.

  What means they had, they joyfully divided with the youngsters they hadtaken to board. The Caslons had no living children; indeed, the two theyhad had, years ago, died while they were yet babies. This Mrs. Caslonconfided to Ruth.

  "It left an empty place in our hearts," she said, softly, "that nothingbut other little children can fill. John has missed them fully as muchas I have. Yes; he lets these little harum-scarums pull him around, andclimb all over him, and interfere with his work, and take up his time agood deal. Yes, I know the place looks a sight, inside the house andout, when they go away.

  "But for a few weeks every year we have a host of young things about us,and it keeps our hearts young. The bother of 'em, and the trouble of'em, is nothing to the good they do us both. Ah, yes!

  "Yes, I've often thought of keeping one or two of them for good. There'sa-many pretty ones, or cunning ones, we'd like to have had. Butthen--think of the disappointment of the rest of the darlings!

  "And it would have narrowed down our sympathy--mine and John's,"proceeded Mrs. Caslon, shaking her head gently. "We'd have centered allour love and longin' into them we took for keeps, just as we centeredall our interest in the two little ones God lent us for a little while,long ago.

  "Havin' a number of 'em each year, and almost always different ones, hasbeen better, I guess--better for all hands. It keeps John and meinterested more, and we try to make them so happy here that each poor,unfortunate orphan will go away and remember his or her summer here forthe rest of their lives.

  "And they _do_ have so little to be happy over, these orphans--and ittakes so very little to make them happy.

  "If I had money--much money," continued the farmer's wife, clasping herhands, fervently, "I'd move many orphan asylums, and such like, out ofthe close, hot cities, where the little ones are cramped for room andair, and put each of them on a farm--a great, big farm. City's no placefor children to grow up--'specially those that have no fathers andmothers.

  "You can't tell me but that these young ones miss their parents lesshere on this farm than they do back in the brick building they live inmost of the year," concluded the good woman, earnestly.

  Ruth quite fell in love with the old lady--who did not appear so veryold, after all. Perhaps she had kept her heart young in serving these"fresh air" orphans, year after year. And Mr. Caslon seemed a veryhappy, jolly sort of man, too.

  The two girls stole away quite frequently to watch the youngsters play,or to teach them new means of entertaining themselves, or to talk withthe farmer's wife. But they did not wish the other girls, and theSteeles, to know where they went on these occasions.

  Their host, who was the nicest kind of a man in every other way, seemeddetermined to look upon Caslon as his enemy; and Mr. Steele was ready todo anything he could to oust the old couple from their home.

  "Pshaw! a man like Caslon can make a good living anywhere," Mr. Steeledeclared. "His crops just _grow_ for him. He's an A-1 farmer--I'd like tofind as good a one before next year, to superintend my whole place. He'sjust holding out for a big price for his farm, that's all he's doing.These hayseeds are money-mad, anyway. I haven't offered him enough forhis old farm, that's all."

  Ruth doubted if this were true. The Caslon place was one of the oldesthomesteads in that part of the State, and the house had been built by aCaslon. Mr. Steele could not appreciate the fact that there was asentiment attached to the farmer's occupancy of his old home.

  The Caslons had taken root here on this side-hill. The farmer and hiswife were the last of the name; they had nobody to will it to. But theyloved every acre of the farm, and the city man's money did not look goodenough to them.

  Ruth Fielding hungered to straighten out the tangle. She wished shemight make Mr. Steele understand the old farmer's attitude. Was therenot, too, some way of settling the controversy in a way satisfactory toboth parties?

  Meanwhile the merry party of young folk at Sunrise Farm was busy everywaking hour. There were picnics, and fishing parties, and games, andwalks, and of course riding galore, for Mr. Steele had plenty of horses.

  Ruth and Helen privately worked up some interest among the girls andboys visiting the farm, in a celebration on the Fourth for the fresh airchildren. Ruth had learned that the farmer had purchased some cheapfireworks and the like for the entertainment of the orphans; but Ruthand her chum wanted to add to his modest preparations.

  Ten dollars was raised, and Tom Cameron took charge of the fund. He wasto ride into town the afternoon before the Fourth to make the purchases,but just about as he was to start, a thunderstorm came up.

  Mr. Steele, who was a nervous man, forbade any riding or driving withthat threatening cloud advancing over the hills. The lightning playedsharply along the edges of the cloud and the thunder rolled ominously.

  "You youngsters don't know what a tempest is like here in the hills,"said Mr. Steele. "Into the house--all of you. Take that horse and cartback to the stables, Jackson. If Tom wants to go to town, he'll have towait until the shower is over--or go to-morrow."

  "All right, sir," agreed young Cameron, cheerfully. "Just as you say."

  "Are all those girls inside?" sharply demanded Mr. Steele. "I thought Isaw the flutter of a petticoat in the shrubbery yonder."

  "I'll see," said Tom, running indoors.

  Nervous Mr. Steele thought he saw somebody there behind the bushes,before he heard from Tom. It had already begun to rain in big drops, andsuddenly there was a flash of lightning and a report seemingly rightoverhead.

  The host turned up his coat collar, thrust his cap over his ears, andran out across the lawn toward the path behind the shrubbery. It led toa summer house on the side lawn, but this was a frail shelter from sucha tempest as this that was breaking over the hill.

  Mr. Steele saw the flutter of a skirt ahead, and dashed along the path,the rain pelting him as he ran.

  "Come back here! Come to the house, you foolish girl!" he cried, andpopped into the summer house just as the clouds seemed to open above andthe rain descend in a flood.

  It was so dark, and Mr. Steele was so blinded for a moment, that hecould scarcely see the figure of whom he was in search. Then he beheld agirl crouching in a corner, with her hands over her ears to shut out theroar of the thunder and her eyes tightly closed to shut out thelightning.

  "For mercy's sake! get up and come into the house. This place will beall a-flood in a minute," he gasped.

  Suddenly, as he dragged the girl to her feet by one shoulder, he sawthat she was not one of the house party at all. She was a frail,shrinking girl, in very dirty clothing, and her face and hands werescratched and dirty, too. A regular ragamuffin she appeared.

  "Why--why, where did _you_ come from?" demanded Mr. Steele.

  The girl only stuttered and stammered, looking at him fearfully.

  "Come on! never mind who you are," he sputtered. "This is no place foryou in this tempest. Come into the house!"

  He set out on a run again for the front veranda, dragging her after him.The girl did not cry, although she was certainly badly frightened by thestorm.

  They reached the door of the big house, saturated. Here Mr. Steeleturned to her again.

  "Who are you? What are you doing around here, anyway?" he demanded.

  "Ain't--ain't this the place where they got a bunch of fresh air kids?"asked the gi
rl.

  "What?" gasped Mr. Steele. "I should say not! Are you one of those youngones Caslon has taken to board to the annoyance of the wholeneighborhood? Ha! what were you doing trespassing on my land?"

  "I ain't neither!" returned the girl, pulling away her hand. "You lemmebe."

  "I forbade any of you to come up here----"

  "I ain't neither," reiterated the girl. "An' I don't know what you mean.I jest got there. And I'm lookin' for the place where the fresh air kidsstay."

  In the midst of this the door was drawn open and Mrs. Steele and some ofthe girls appeared.

  "Do come in, Father," she cried. "Why! you're soaking wet. And thatchild! bring her in, whoever she is. Oh!"

  Another flash of lightning made them all cower--all but Ruth Fielding,who had crept forward to look over Mrs. Steele's shoulder. Now shedashed out and seized the bedrabbled looking stranger by the hand.

  "Why, Sadie Raby! who'd ever expect to see you here? Come in! do let hercome in out of the storm, Mrs. Steele. I know who she is," begged Ruth.