Chapter XI Going for Ruth
The penalty, added to the morning’s imprisonment; for Felix was that he should read to Pierre an hour after breakfast every morning, he having nothing to say as to what he should read, but Pierre making all the selections. Felix tried to get the sentence commuted to half an hour, but his uncle was inexorable: he said the prevarication about the time was a very serious matter, and besides that, as the evening readings had been given up for the summer on account of the unpleasantness of having lamps lighted during the warm weather, Felix would lose all the progress he had made in reading, if he did not practise regularly for some time to come. As Pierre began by selecting easy and interesting stories, however; Felix found, on trial, that he rather enjoyed his daily penalty than otherwise. The readings were carried on in Felix’s room, where there was nothing to divert his attention.
Sue was very anxious to go over in the dog-cart to see Ruth. Julia had promised to accompany her. Julia had been to the lighthouse in her father’s carriage quite often with friends from the city, and she was to show Sue the way around by the village, which, although the longer way, was much the pleasanter and smoother road; since, for some time before reaching the lighthouse, it was within view of the ocean and of the surf, which dashed high upon the shore. Mrs. Le Bras said, if the next Thursday were pleasant, Sue might go over to the lighthouse in the morning, and she should like very much to have her bring Ruth home to dinner, if her uncle and aunt were willing. Mrs. Le Bras also said, that, if Ruth could stay until toward night, she would carry her back herself in the carriage, as she would like to see the lighthouse and the ocean-side herself.
Thursday proved to be a very pleasant day, much to Sue’s delight; and Oliver harnessed the pony into the dog-cart immediately after breakfast. Felix and Johnny had planned to accompany the girls on their bicycles, and Felix was rather vexed when he found they were going before his hour with Pierre was over. He went to his uncle, and tried to get off for that morning; but Mr. Le Bras said it was a bad plan to make any break in what ought to be a regular custom, unless it were either very advisable or absolutely necessary, neither of which was the case in this instance. Felix then tried to get the girls to change their plans; but they argued, that, if they waited, it would bring them back in the heat of the day, which both Mrs. Le Bras and Julia’s mother wished them to avoid. As a last resource, Felix asked Johnny not to go until his hour was up. Johnny would have assented to this good-naturedly, although he rather wanted to go with the girls, but Julia opposed it strongly: she said she wanted Johnny to go with them very much; and she added, naughtily, to Sue, and so loudly that Felix could hear her, “I think it will be nicer to have Johnny alone than to have Felix too. Felix will be with us when we come home, and that is enough.”
Felix’s face grew very red. “You are the most disagreeable girl I ever knew, Julia Peterson!” he said. “I won’t go with you, either going or coming; and I am not sure I will come over to the lighthouse while you are there!”
Oliver had just brought the dog-cart around to the door. The girls and Johnny were on the veranda. Felix had been standing in the door on his way up to Pierre’s room; but he now ran up-stairs noisily, shouting back, “Go along with her, Johnny, if you want to! Perhaps I sha’n’t come to the lighthouse at all!”
The girls got into the cart. Julia was laughing; and Sue said, “Felix isn’t used to being snubbed, Julia, and I’m awful sorry for him. If I were you, Johnny, I’d wait for him.”
“But I don’t believe he’ll come at all, now,” replied Johnny, looking wistfully at his bicycle, which was leaning against the veranda. It was such a fresh, pleasant morning, and he liked Julia very much; although he was sorry she had spoken so to Felix.
“It won’t hurt Felix a mite to be snubbed; it’s my opinion it is just what he needs: you ought to have seen how he teased me last year, and I always meant to pay him off, if I could get a good chance; besides, he’s too conceited for any thing,” continued Julia.
“I can’t help it, anyway,” said Sue resignedly, as she gathered up the reins. “I suppose you might as well come, Johnny; for I shouldn’t wonder if Felix would be cross all day, and make it unpleasant for you if you stay at home to please him.”
Johnny hesitated.
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” he said: “I’ll ride over with you, and, if we go pretty fast, I shall have time to come back again, and see if Felix is ready to go over.”
“If you must try to be so awful obliging, when he wouldn’t think of putting himself out that way for you,” replied Julia.
Felix had stopped in the upper hall, and looked out of the window over the front-door. As the window was open, although the blinds were closed, he heard every word of the conversation, and was angrier than ever.
“Where are you, Felix?” called out Pierre. “You are fifteen minutes behind time. Come! I shall have to report you if this occurs again.”
Felix went into Pierre’s room, and took up his book with a jerk. “I hate girls!” he said, “especially that conceited, mean Julia Peterson!”
The dog-cart moved off briskly along the shell road, with Johnny on his bicycle by its side. Johnny was wishing heartily that Felix was with them, and every thing pleasant as usual; but as he could not help it, he tried to enjoy himself, which was not at all difficult.
When they came to the long row of cottages, some boys were out on the pier fishing.
“What are you catching?” called out Johnny.
“Scup!” shouted back one of the boys.
“Having good luck?” returned Johnny.
“Catch ’em by the pailful,” replied another boy.
Johnny then noticed several pails and baskets by the side of the boys, and that there were also some strings of fish in sight. He said he would go and see the scup, and then rejoin the girls.
“Scup are of no consequence,” said Julia; “you can catch them as easy as nothing; and after you have caught them, they are not worth cooking, if you can get any other fish, because they are so full of bones.”
Johnny rode down on the pier, however, and looked at the scup. “They are very handsome little fish,” he said. “Do you cook all you catch?”
“Oh!” replied one of the boys, “sometimes we cook them, and sometimes we throw them back into the water: I’ve thrown back almost all I’ve caught this morning, because we’ve got plenty of better fish at home.”
“My mother likes them, if they are bony, because they are so sweet,” said another boy: “we fry them real crisp, and we like them.”
“I don’t think it is right to catch them, unless you can make some use of them,” remarked Johnny. “I think I will come down and catch a few to-morrow, just to try them.”
“Say!” remarked the boy who had said he threw back his fish: “where’s Felix Le Bras? You live up at his cottage, don’t you?”
“Yes: I am his cousin. But he is staying at home this morning: at least, he is at home now.”
Johnny then hurried back to catch up with the dog-cart.
“Did you know who that boy was you were talking with?” inquired Julia.
“Which? The one in a sailor-suit?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That’s Jack, the boy who threw stones at my kitten.”
“At his kitten, you mean,” said Sue.
“Why, the kitten that’s mine now: a kitten belongs to the folks who can be kind to it.”
This peculiar law regarding the ownership of kittens was new to Sue. She thought she would ask her father about it, but she made no reply to Julia.
“Oh! that’s Jack, is it?” said Johnny. “I might almost have known it, by his saying he caught the fish just for the fun of it, and then threw them back into the water.”
“That isn’t so bad as about the kitten,” replied Sue; “for, if I were a fish, I would rather be thrown back in the water, than fried in a spider.”
“But it isn’t right,” said Johnny; and then he rode on a little ahead, to escape arguing the matter further with Sue, who was apt to get the best of him sometimes, even when she was on the wrong side.
After reaching the village, they crossed through it, according to Julia’s directions, and came out into a country road bordered at intervals with farmhouses. Shortly they came in view of the ocean, and soon in full view of the surf. The road wound gradually nearer and nearer the shore, until they were almost at the lighthouse, and was separated from the white-sanded beach only by a narrow strip of land covered with the tall, rank grass which grew along the shore. A fresh wind was blowing from the sea, and the surf washed the rocks at the base of the lighthouse. The side of the keeper’s house was almost upon the street; indeed, it was at a corner; as the road upon which Felix and Johnny had reached it was in front, running down to the shore.
“I wish there were lines here,” remarked Johnny, “so we could come over and bathe in the surf. Oliver says there is such an undertow here, it would be unsafe without lines.”
A little way up the road which led past the woods, and on the opposite side from the woods, a man was at work in a large vegetable garden which bordered a cornfield.
“There is Mr. Shepard,” said Julia: “he is the lighthouse keeper. Shall we go and see him, and ask if we can go up in the lighthouse? Or shall we call at the house first, and ask to see Ruth?”
“Let’s see Ruth first,” replied Sue, “’cause that’s what we came for; and we want to give our invitation to dinner, so she will have time to get ready while we are in the lighthouse.”
“I don’t believe we had better ask to see the lighthouse, until we come with some grown persons,” said Johnny: “perhaps they won’t want to take that trouble for all the children who come over.”
“But we aren’t all the children,” replied Julia.
“We haven’t any better right to ask than any other children have; and so, if they let us go, they might have to let others, or have them bother by asking,” returned Johnny.
“Very well, if you and Sue don’t care: I’ve been up there so many times, I don’t care about climbing up again; and you can’t see any thing when you get up there, because it’s all full of the lamp.”
Johnny laughed at this. “Why, the lamp is just what I should go to see. I’ve studied about that kind of lamp, and I want to see one very much: I want to notice the way the glass is formed and arranged to collect and refract the rays, so as to make the most of them in sending the light out to sea. But I think I would rather go up with Pierre or my father, who can help me understand it better; and besides, if there is some grown person with me, I can stay longer, and Mr. Shepard will take more pains to tell all he knows about it. Nobody takes pains to explain things to boys.”
“There is a good enough reason for that,” said Julia: “how much would such a boy as Felix or Jack listen to explanations? I think you are a kind of a man, Johnny: you only look like a boy. And you don’t look so very much like a boy when you have your glasses on. I think I shall call you Professor, as Sue and Felix do.”
“It’s great if a boy must be called a man and a professor just because he likes to understand about matters! But you just wait till I’m as tall as my father, and wear a stove-pipe: then see if you don’t notice a difference.”
Julia and Sue laughed at this dignified picture of Johnny as a man. By that time they had turned into the other road, and stopped in front of the keeper’s house.
“The house is built right on to the lighthouse, and is of the very same kind of stone,” remarked Sue.
“Yes,” replied Johnny; “and they can go up in the lighthouse, Oliver says, without coming outside; although there is a door, you see, in the outside. I wonder what that building off the other side of the lighthouse is for?”
“That’s the place where the steam fog-whistle is,” replied Julia. “I was over here in a fog with my father once, and you never heard such a noise as it made.”
“I heard it in the distance the other night, and it was bad enough at that,” said Johnny. “My father said it was the fog-whistle, but I didn’t know it was here at the lighthouse. I must see that, too, and understand about it, some day, when Pierre can come with me.”
They were now standing on the stone steps, and Johnny found there was a bell in a little niche at one side of the door. “Why, here’s a bell!” he said. “Uncle Sam means to be up with the times, in his buildings, even if they are out in the country. Felix and I pounded away with both hands the other night.”
Just after Johnny rang the bell, the door was opened by a rather severe-looking young woman, with sharp gray eyes, and a look that seemed to say, “Tell your business as soon as possible, and have done with it.”
Obedient to the look, Johnny said at once, “Can we see Miss Ruth?”
Mrs. Shepard appeared to be astonished. She looked at the visitors a moment before replying, and then said,—
“What do you want to see Ruth for?”
“We want to ask if she will come to dinner over to our cottage, if you and her uncle will let her,” said Sue.
“Where is your cottage?”
“It is Mr. Louis Le Bras’ cottage,” replied Johnny.
“You are not Mr. Le Bras’ son?”
“I am the son of Mr. Frank Le Bras, who is staying at the cottage while my uncle Louis is in Europe. Felix did not come with us this morning.”
“You can come in, and I will speak to Ruth. But I don’t understand about your wanting her to come to dinner. Does your mother wish to hire a nurse-girl?”
“No, ma’am,” replied Sue, as they were ushered into a room which seemed to be the parlor, it looked so stiff and dark: “I am the youngest child.”
“Felix and I got acquainted with Ruth the other night, when we stopped here to inquire our way,” explained Johnny; “and my sister and this young lady, Julia, who lives in the next cottage to ours, want to get acquainted with her; and so my mother wished us to ask if she could dine with us to-day; my mother will bring her home in the carriage before dark.”
Mrs. Shepard looked very much surprised again.
“I have seen this young lady before,” she said, looking at Julia.
“Yes,” replied Julia. “I was over here quite often last summer.”
“I don’t know whether I have any objection to Ruth’s going to your house, or not,” said Mrs. Shepard hesitatingly. “I wonder at your mother’s asking her. Of course, she don’t know that Ruth is a poor girl, and is looking for a place to work out for the summer?”
“Yes,” returned Johnny: “we told her about it. Ruth told Felix and me she was looking for a place to take care of children.”
“Oh! Then I presume your mother knows of some family who would like to employ a girl, and so wants to find out what kind of a girl she is. Ruth is a pretty good girl to do as she is told, tell your mother, and she’s bright and spry: her worst trouble is that she’s a sort of baby, and cries at every thing and nothing; but I suppose she’ll get over that, when she finds what sort of a world she is in, and that poor folks can’t be babied. It’s my opinion her mother humored her almost to death: and my husband would do the same, if he could have his way; he hasn’t got any government at all: and I’ve made up my mind, the sooner Ruth goes among strangers, the better; it’s the only thing that will make a common-sense woman of her. You can tell your mother what I have said, and it may help to give her a right understanding of the case. But tell her Ruth’ll make first-rate help, if the folks are right up and down with her, as I should be, if it wasn’t for my husband.”
“Yes, we’ll tell my mother all you say,” replied Johnny very sincerely: he had a vague idea that Mrs. Shepard was making out a better case for Ruth than for herself, with such a warm-hearted woman as Mrs. Le Bras.
Mrs. Shepard then added, as she opened half of one of the window-blinds a little way,—
“I’ll go and tell Ruth to fix herself up, and she’ll be ready before long; that is, if you want her to go along with you. She can walk over just as well, right across.”
“Yes, we want her to go with us,” returned Sue: “she and Julia can sit down first, and there’ll be room enough between them on the seat for me.”
“Remember and tell your mother, too,” continued Mrs. Shepard, “that it won’t do to make too much of Ruth: she’s got too many high notions now. You see, she’s lived in the city, and been to city schools, and she’s got some lofty ideas in her head: she’d like to believe that she is as good as other folks, if she is poor and dependent. I’ve done what I could to put her down; but she’s too high-spirited for her station in life, by a good deal, yet. However, when she gets out to work, she’ll find her right place pretty soon, I guess. The only thing I wish is that she could get farther away from her uncle. I’m in hopes, if she gets a place, the family will want to carry her back to the city with them.”
“I’ll tell mother all you say,” returned Johnny gravely. And then, as Mrs. Shepard was about to leave the room, he added,—
“I think I would like to go outside and wait, where I can see the surf; and perhaps the girls would like to go too. My sister and I have not been much used to seeing the surf.”
“I never saw it in my life before,” added Sue, slipping her hand in Johnny’s, while he walked towards the door, as if in fear that this imperative-looking woman would close the door and imprison them in the dark room, where, in spite of the crack in the shutter, they had but a dim view of some stiff chairs, a black sofa, some grim vases on the mantel with dried grasses in them, and a table against the wall, upon which were a few forlornly solitary-looking books, piled in exact order, like prisoners in rows, as they were.
“Yes: it’s ever so much pleasanter out of doors,” said Julia frankly; and the children were fairly outside the door before Mrs. Shepard could reply.
“Well, you can stay out in the hot sun, if you want to; though I should think you would rather be in this cool room, away from the sun and flies.”
The children went out on the doorstep, and basked happily in the sunshine, which was so repugnant to Mrs. Shepard’s taste, while that lady went back into the parlor, and closed the shutter.
“Suppose we go and tell Mr. Shepard about Ruth’s going home with us,” remarked Johnny: “his wife didn’t say any thing about telling him, but he might like to know.”
The girls having assented to this, Johnny proposed that they should get into the dog-cart, and drive up to the vegetable garden, so as to leave the pony in the shade of the trees by the wood until Ruth made her appearance. So the girls got into the cart, and drove slowly towards Mr. Shepard, while Johnny walked by their side, having left his bicycle near the doorstep. Mr. Shepard stopped hoeing when he saw them coming, and came up close to the stone wall, which was between him and the road, to speak with them.
“How do you do, Julia?” he said. “I see you have got some new company this summer.”
“Yes: they live in Mr. Le Bras’ cottage; they are his brother’s children.”
“Oh, yes, I know now! Ruth was a-tellin’ me about the boy: his name is John, and he came to the house with Felix the other night. You’d ought to have staid till I got home, young man: I shouldn’t ‘a’ let you gone off in all that rain, or I’d a carried you home in my team. But Ruth she’s sort of ’fraid o’ doin’ somethin wrong, and so she didn’t keep you till I got there.”
“It was just as well; because we had quite an adventure, on account of trying to find our own way in the dark.”
Johnny got up on the wall, and began to tell Mr. Shepard about their sleeping in their own barn; while Sue drove over in the shade, and, with Julia’s assistance, hitched the pony to a little sapling which grew near.
Mr. Shepard laughed very heartily at Johnny’s account.
“Well, that beat all!” he said, as the girls came over and joined the group.
“So this is your sister, is it, John?”
“Yes, sir, this is Sue. She came over to ask a favor of you and Mrs. Shepard.”
“She won’t have to ask but once of me, then; I’m mighty fond of little gals: you see, all my children was boys. I allers did want a gal awfully; but I never had none till my poor sister died, and then Ruth came to live along with me.”
Here a rather troubled expression flitted across Mr. Shepard’s face.
“I came over about Ruth,” said Sue, climbing up on the wall, and sitting down on a large stone at the top, close by Mr. Shepard’s elbow. “I wanted to ask if she could come to our house, to dinner, and stay till towards night, when my mother will bring her home in the carriage.”
“Is your mother in want of a nus girl?” inquired Mr. Shepard, looking still soberer than before.
“Oh, no!” replied Sue: “we just want Ruth to come for company, so’s we can have a real good time together.”
“Well!” said Mr. Shepard, taking off his hat, wiping his forehead with a large cotton handkerchief, and looking greatly relieved. “Does your mother know about it?”
“Certainly,” replied Johnny: “she sent the invitation; Felix and I told her about Ruth, and she wants to get acquainted with her.”
“Your mother must be a partic’arly nice woman,” returned Mr. Shepard. “I’d be glad enough to have Ruth go: she don’t have any too good times here at home.” And then he added, in an explanatory manner, “You see, their ain’t no children right round here, an’ my wife she ain’t over-fond of young folks; and I’m rather an old playfellow for Ruth myself, though I try to do the best I can. I’d be right glad to have her go along with you: though I don’t know what her aunt’ll say; she’s a leetle notional at times.”
“Oh! she says she can go,” replied Johnny, “and that she might get ready.”
“Did she? Well, now, that’s a wonder! I’m mighty glad on it! Ruth hain’t got nuthin’ but a caliky dress to wear. I’d ‘a’ got her somethin’ a leetle better myself, to wear when she went away; but my wife didn’t think best, and I dunno much myself about girls’ rigs.”
“The blue calico will be very pretty, I am sure,” said Sue. “I want to see it very much, because she made it herself.”
“There it is agin,” said Mr. Shepard. “I don’t think myself that a gal like that is old enough to make her own dresses; but my wife she cut it out, and set her about it. I don’t know how it’s come out, though I shouldn’t wonder if the sewin’ was better than the cuttin’. Ruth’s a powerful smart girl, I think: she’s handy with every thing she undertakes. I shouldn’t wonder if she could ‘a’ cut that ’ere dress better than her aunt did, but ’twont do to say so. I was awful anxious that Martha should take it to a dressmaker.”
Just then Julia exclaimed,—
“There she is now, blue dress and all!”
Ruth was just coming out of the house; and her aunt was talking to her, as if giving her some very decided directions. The children could hear Ruth’s last words, as she walked away from the house, which were, “Yes, ma’am, I’ll be sure and remember.”
“Let’s go and meet her,” said Sue, slipping from the wall, and walking down the road. Johnny and Julia followed. They met Ruth about half way.
“I’m ever so glad to see you again, Ruth,” said Johnny: “this is a neighbor of ours, Julia Peterson; and this is my sister Sue.”
“I’m so glad you can go,” said Sue, taking Ruth’s hand, and walking along by her. “I think your new dress is real pretty. You must be awful proud that you made it all yourself.”
Although Sue was wholly unconscious of the fact, she could not have said any thing more comforting to poor Ruth, who had noticed, with true feminine observation, as soon as she saw the girls, how prettily they were dressed. Sue wore a handsome red Mother Hubbard, trimmed with white, and Julia a richly embroidered white dress. Ruth’s dark blue calico was made very plain; there was not even a tuck or ruffle on it: but as she was a very sweet-looking girl, with bright eyes and deep dimples, and had a refined, lady-like manner, she looked better in the plain dress than would have been the case with a girl of less pleasing appearance. Her hair was braided, and tied with a bit of blue ribbon; and she wore a cheap but becoming sun-hat, plainly trimmed with blue.
The children all walked back to where Mr. Shepard was standing.
“I’m glad enough you can go, Ruth,” said her uncle: “I hope you will have a raal good time.”
“Thank you,” said Ruth, getting up on the wall to bid him good-by. She put her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He gave her a good hug, and then looked furtively towards the house, as if he were afraid his wife would see them; but, fortunately, Mrs. Shepard was not in sight, although she came into the parlor a few moments afterward, and peered out from between the shutters.
“You’ll be a good girl, I know,” he said: “be as perlite as you know how.”
“I’m afraid I sha’n’t know how very well,” replied Ruth, a little anxiously.
“I’ll resk you! I’ll resk you!” said Mr. Shepard heartily. “I’d come and git you, but this young man says his mother is to bring you home.”
Johnny had gone across the road, and brought the dog-cart, which was now waiting for its occupants.
“You get in first, Ruth,” said Sue politely.
As Sue seated herself in the middle, and took up the reins, she said, “Good-by, Mr. Shepard: we’ll take good care of Ruth, and send her home all safe.”
“Thank you,” replied Mr. Shepard, brushing his hand hastily across his eyes. “Now, you have as good a time as ever you can, Ruth: you don’t git sich a chance every day, you know.”
Ruth looked back and smiled at him as the dog-cart moved away. “Don’t you worry,” she returned. Evidently there was a good understanding between Ruth and her uncle, in spite of the redoubtable Mrs. Shepard.
When they reached the turn in the road, Johnny, who had run ahead for his bicycle, joined them.
“You forgot to go back for Felix,” said Sue.
“There wasn’t time to go back, because we didn’t have to wait for Ruth. I don’t believe his hour is up yet.”
“No,” said Julia, looking at a dainty little gold watch: “it isn’t quite a quarter-past nine; it lacks ten minutes.”
Ruth felt so much awed at first, by being in such fine company, that she said very little, scarcely more than answering the questions addressed to her. But Sue and Johnny paid so much attention to her, that she soon felt more at her ease; although she was quite shy of Julia, whose manner was not quite as cordial and unconstrained as that of her companions. The truth was, Julia was considerably puzzled at the attention which Johnny and Sue paid to the lighthouse keeper’s niece, and this not the less from her mother having remarked, when she asked leave to go with them on the errand, “What can Mrs. Le Bras be thinking of, to want to invite that poor country girl to spend the day with her children? But since she has, and the Le Bras are such fine people, I suppose you can go, though I do think it is queer of her.”
When they reached the wharf on the way back, the boys had disappeared from the pier. The pavilion, however, was quite filled with children and their nurses, and groups of boys and girls were to be seen here and there along the shore.
“I don’t see Jack anywhere,” remarked Sue.
“Like enough, he is one of those boys way down there on the point,” said Johnny. “It’s almost bathing-time now: I should like to see all the folks in bathing. We might come down about eleven.”
“Yes, let’s!” replied Julia: “it’s great fun. Let’s come down in our bathing-suits, and go in too: it’s ever so much more fun where there are a lot.”
“We haven’t any bathing-suits yet,” said Sue: “mother’s going into town in a day or two to get us some, and then we can have great times. You must come over and bathe with us, Ruth. Have you a bathing-suit?”
“No; but I sometimes put on an old dress, and go a little way into the surf with my uncle.”
“I should think you would be afraid,” said Johnny, “on account of the undertow.”
“But my uncle is a very good swimmer, and he only takes me in a very little way. I hold tight on to his hand. Sometimes the surf knocks me down, but uncle Ethan pulls me right up again.”
“I’m going to begin to learn to swim, first thing, as soon as I get my bathing-suit,” said Johnny. “Felix can swim, and he and Oliver are to show me how.”
“I don’t see why mamma did not think of the bathing-dresses before we left home,” said Sue.
“Why, don’t you remember? Felix told her they had a larger variety down this way. You see, they don’t keep bathing-clothes so much in inland towns. I doubt if we could have got what we wanted at home, without having them made.”
They soon came in sight of the Peterson cottage. Mrs. Peterson was sitting on the veranda with some fancy-work. She was a handsome, finely dressed woman, with a slightly haughty air. She and Mrs. Le Bras had exchanged calls, and the children had been over several times to visit Julia. When she saw the dog-cart coming, she looked quite curiously at Ruth, and then turned towards a lady visitor, who came out of the door at that instant, and said something with a smile. Of course, the children did not hear what she said; but it was, “Don’t that country girl, in her dark calico, look odd with Julia and Sue? I wonder what Mrs. Le Bras invited her for!”
“Have you seen Felix, mother?” asked Julia.
“I saw him going down the road with Jack Billings a while ago.”
“Jack Billings! Jack didn’t touch my kitten, did he?”
“I think not. They have not been around our house. He and Felix were out at the barn, I think. Jack had not been up here more than fifteen minutes or so. I heard him call out to Felix, as he went into the yard, that he wanted him to go down to the Point fishing, with him and some other boys.”
Julia laughed merrily. “Well!” she said, “Felix did get mad with me in earnest!”
“You should say vexed, not ‘mad,’” corrected her mother; and the children rode on to the next cottage.
When Mrs. Le Bras saw them coming, she came out of the door, and down the steps, to shake hands with Ruth, and tell her she was glad to see her.
“And now, my dears,” said Mrs. Le Bras, “you had better go right in out of the hot sun, for it is getting to be a very warm day. You will find some lemonade in the dining-room. You can play in the parlor or dining-room, or you can go up in Johnny’s or Sue’s room. I am busy in my room painting this morning; but by and by, when I get through for to-day, I will call you in to see how far I have got with my picture.”
“What are you painting?” inquired Johnny, wheeling his bicycle up against the end of the veranda.
“I am painting that pretty little bay across from here, with the fishing and sail boats anchored in it, and the blue hills behind, and the sky with the gulls overhead. I think I will make your father a birthday present of the sketch if I can get it done in time: you know his birthday comes the fifteenth of August.”
“Oh! I ’most forgot!” said Sue. “I must be thinking what I will get for him.”
“And I too,” said Johnny. “He likes something we make better than any thing we can buy. If I can get a piece of nice wood, I will whittle a paper-cutter of my own design, and get mother to show me how to paint something on it.”
Mrs. Le Bras took Ruth’s hand, and led her into the house, talking to her very pleasantly. She inquired about her uncle and aunt, and asked her how she liked living by the sea. Ruth replied in an intelligent, lady-like manner, although a little bashfully.
Johnny took the dog-cart to the barn, and told Oliver he would unharness the pony. But Oliver said he would see to it, as he was not busy.
“So Felix went off with Jack Billings fishing?” said Johnny.
“Yes,” replied Oliver, “and I was glad enough to see them go. They were round fooling a while, as if they were up to some mischief or other. I was afraid they would disturb those settin’ hens: I heard them making a great cackling. They seem to be all right, though. I guess the boys were playing ‘stumps’ in the barn: they were racing and jumping a good deal. Felix was in for one of his high times. You see, your father’s gone off, and he’ll be likely to take advantage. He appeared more like himself as he used to be than I’ve seen him afore, sence he’s ben here this summer. I tell you, he was a high one last year! His own folks couldn’t do nothin’ at all with him; and he was mighty sassy to them, and to Mary and me, you’d better believe, when he was crossed in any thing, and when he wasn’t crossed, as well. Your father and mother have got the upper hand of him somehow, and I’m mighty glad on it.”
“Where has my father gone?”
“He’s gone off with Mr. Frothingham, to sail in his yacht. Mr. Frothingham came down in his fast team this morning, and wanted your father to go with him.”
“I thought father told him he couldn’t go just now.”
“Well, he said jest for a day, you know; and your mother said your father could go for a day jest as well as not, and so he did. They’re coming home to-night.”
“Where did the yacht start from?”
“Mr. Frothingham keeps it at the Harbor: that’s a mile or so this side of town. You’ll have to go down and see the Harbor, Johnny; it’s a mighty fine place; no end of yachts and sail-boats and steamboats and schooners and barges, and all sech craft, passing along by.”
“Yes: Felix told me about it. Couldn’t you take us down in the buggy or carriage some day?”
“Sartin! sartin! Any time your folks say.”
Johnny then went in to join the girls.