Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm; What Became of the Raby Orphans
TextCHAPTER XX – THE RABY ROMANCE
Miss True Pettis thrilled with the joy of telling the romance. The little seamstress had been all her life entertaining people with the dry details of unimportant neighborhood happenings. It was only once in a long while that a story like that of the Rabys’ came within her ken.
“Why, do you believe me!” she said to Ruth, “that Mis’ Raby came of quite a nice family in Quebec. Not to say Tom Raby wasn’t a fine man, for he was, but he warn’t educated much and his trade didn’t bring ’em more’n a livin’. But her folks had school teachers, and doctors, and even ministers in their family – yes, indeed!
“And it seems like, so the Canady lawyer said, that a minister in the family what was an uncle of Mis’ Raby’s, left her and her children some property. It was in what he called ‘the fun’s’ – that’s like stocks an’ bonds, I reckon. But them Canadians talk different from us.
“Well, I can remember that man – tall, lean man he was, with a yaller mustache. He had traced the Rabys to Darrowtown, and he saw the minister, and Deacon Giles, and Amoskeag Lanfell, askin’ did they know where the Rabys went when they moved away from here.
“I was workin’ for Amoskeag’s wife that day, so I heard all the talk,” pursued Miss Pettis. “He said – this Canady lawyer did – that the property amounted to several thousand dollars. It was left by the minister (who had no family of his own) to his niece, Mis’ Raby, or to her children if she was dead.
“Course they asked me if I knowed what became of the family,” said the spinster, with some pride. “It bein’ well known here in Darrowtown that I’m most as good as a parish register – and why wouldn’t I be? Everybody expects me to know all the news. But if I ever did know where them Rabys went, I’d forgot, and I told the lawyer man so.
“But he give me his card and axed me to write to him if I ever heard anything further from ’em, or about ’em. And I certain sure would have done so,” declared Miss Pettis, “if it had ever come to my mind.”
“Have you the gentleman’s card now, Miss True?” asked Ruth, eagerly.
“I s’pect so.”
“Will you find it? I know Mr. Steele is interested in the Rabys, and he can communicate with this Canadian lawyer – ”
“Now! ain’t you a bright girl?” cried the spinster. “Of course!”
She at once began to hustle about, turning things out of her bureau drawers, searching the cubby holes of an old maple “secretary” that had set in the corner of the kitchen since her father’s time, discovering things which she had mislaid for years – and forgotten – but not coming upon the card in question right away.
“Of course I’ve got it,” she declared. “I never lose anything – I never throw a scrap of anything away that might come of use – ”
And still she rummaged. Tom came back with the cart and Ruth had to go shopping. “But do look, Miss Pettis,” she begged, “and we’ll stop again before we go back to the farm.”
Tom and she were some time selecting a dozen timely, funny, and attractive nicknacks for the fresh airs. But they succeeded at last, and Ruth was sure the girls would be pleased with their selections.
“So much better than spending the money for noise and a powder smell,” added Ruth.
“Humph! the kids would like the noise all right,” sniffed Tom. “I heard those little chaps begging Mr. Caslon for punk and firecrackers. That old farmer was a boy himself once, and I bet he got something for them that will smell of powder, beside the little tad of fireworks he showed me.”
“Oh! I hope they won’t any of them get burned.”
“Kind of put a damper on the ‘safe and sane Fourth’ Mr. Steele spoke about, eh?” chuckled Tom.
Miss Pettis was looking out of the window and smiling at them when they arrived back at the cottage. She held in her hand a yellowed bit of pasteboard, which she passed to the eager Ruth.
“Where do you suppose I found it, Ruthie?” she demanded.
“I couldn’t guess.”
“Why, stuck right into the corner of my lookin’-glass in my bedroom. I s’pose I have handled it every day I’ve dusted that glass for three year, an’ then couldn’t remember where it was. Ain’t that the beatenes’?”
Ruth and Tom drove off in high excitement. She had already told Master Tom all about the Raby romance – such details as he did not already know – and now they both looked at the yellowed business card before Ruth put it safely away in her pocket:
Mr. Angus MacDorough
Solicitor
13, King Crescent, Quebec
“Mr. Steele will go right ahead with this, I know,” said Tom, nodding. “He’s taken a fancy to those kids – ”
“Well! he ought to, to Sadie!” cried Ruth.
“Sure. And he’s a generous man, after all. Too bad he’s taken such a dislike to old Caslon.”
“Oh, dear, Tom! we ought to fix that,” sighed Ruth.
“Crickey! you’d tackle any job in the world, I believe, Ruthie, if you thought you could help folks.”
“Nonsense! But both of them – both Mr. Steele and Mr. Caslon – are such awfully nice people – ”
“Well! there’s not much hope, I guess. Mr. Steele’s lawyer is trying to find a flaw in Caslon’s title. It seems that, way back, a long time ago, some of the Caslons got poor, or careless, and the farm was sold for taxes. It was never properly straightened out – on the county records, anyway – and the lawyer is trying to see if he can’t buy up the interest of whoever bought the farm in at that time – or their heirs – and so have some kind of a basis for a suit against old Caslon.”
“Goodness! that’s not very clear,” said Ruth, staring.
“No. It’s pretty muddy. But you know how some lawyers are. And Mr. Steele is willing to hire the shyster to do it. He thinks it’s all right. It’s business.”
“Your father wouldn’t do such a thing, Tom!” cried Ruth.
“No. I hope he wouldn’t, anyway,” said Master Tom, wagging his head. “But I couldn’t say that to Bobbins when he told me about it, could I?”
“No call to. But, oh, dear! I hope Mr. Steele won’t be successful. I do hope he won’t be.”
“Same here,” grunted Tom. “Just the same, he’s a nice man, and I like him.”
“Yes – so do I,” admitted Ruth. “But I’d like him so much more, if he wouldn’t try to get the best of an old man like Mr. Caslon.”
The Raby matter, however, was a more pleasant topic of conversation for the two friends. The big bay horse got over the ground rapidly – Tom said the creature did not know a hill when he saw one! – and it still lacked half an hour of noon when they came in sight of Caslon’s house.
The orphans were all in force in the front yard. Mr. Caslon appeared, too.
That yard was untidy for the first time since Ruth had seen it. And most of the untidiness was caused by telltale bits of red, yellow, and green paper. Even before the cart came to the gate, Ruth smelled the tang of powder smoke.
“Oh, Tom! they have got firecrackers,” she exclaimed.
“So have I – a whole box full – under the front seat,” chuckled Tom. “What’s the Fourth without a weeny bit of noise? Bobbins and I are going to let them off in a big hogshead he’s found behind the stable.”
“You boys are rascals!” breathed Ruth. “Why! there are the twins!”
Sadie’s young brothers ran out to the cart. Mr. Caslon appeared with a good-sized box in his arms, too.
“Just take this – and the youngsters – aboard, will you, young fellow?” said the farmer. “Might as well have all the rockets and such up there on the hill. They’ll show off better. And the twins was down for the clean clo’es mother promised them.”
It was a two-seated cart and there was plenty of room for the two boys on the back seat. Mr. Caslon carefully placed the open box in the bottom of the cart, between the seats. The fireworks he had purchased had been taken out of their wrappings and were placed loosely in the box.
“There ye are,” said the farmer, jovially. “Hop up here, youngsters!”
He seized Willie and hoisted him into the seat. But Dickie had run around to the other side of the cart and clambered up like a monkey, to join his brother.
“All right, sir,” said Tom, wheeling the eager bay horse. It was nearing time for the latter’s oats, and he smelled them! “Out of the way, kids. They’ll send a wagon down for you, all right, after luncheon, I reckon.”
Just then Ruth happened to notice something smoking in Dickie’s hand.
“What have you there, child?” she demanded. “Not a nasty cigarette?”
He held out, solemnly, and as usual wordlessly, a smoking bit of punk.
“Where did you get that? Oh! drop it!” cried Ruth, fearing for the fireworks and the explosives under the front seat. She meant for Dickie to throw it out of the wagon, but the youngster took the command literally.
He dropped it. He dropped it right into the box of fireworks. Then things began to happen!
CHAPTER XXI – A VERY BUSY TIME
“Oh, Tom!” shrieked Ruth, and seized the boy’s arm. The bay horse was just plunging ahead, eager to be off for the stable and his manger. The high cart was whirled through the gateway as the first explosion came!
Pop, pop, pop! sputter – BANG!
It seemed as though the horse leaped more than his own length, and yanked all four wheels of the cart off the ground. There was a chorus of screams in the Caslons’ dooryard, but after that first cry, Ruth kept silent.
The rockets shot out of the box amidships with a shower of sparks. The Roman candles sprayed their varied colored balls – dimmed now by daylight – all about the cart.
Tom hung to the lines desperately, but the scared horse had taken the bit in his teeth and was galloping up the road toward Sunrise Farm, quite out of hand.
After that first grab at Tom’s arm, Ruth did not interfere with him. She turned about, knelt on the seat-cushion, and, one after the other, swept the twins across the sputtering, shooting bunch of fireworks, and into the space between her and Tom and the dashboard.
Providentially the shooting rockets headed into the air, and to the rear. As the big horse dashed up the hill, swinging the light vehicle from side to side behind him, there was left behind a trail of smoke and fire that (had it been night-time) would have been a brilliant spectacle.
Mr. Caslon and the orphans started after the amazing thing tearing up the road – but to no purpose. Nothing could be done to stop the explosion now. The sparks flew all about. Although Mr. Caslon had bought a wealth of small rockets, candles, mines, flower-pots, and the like, never had so many pieces been discharged in so short a time!
It was sputter, sputter, bang, bang, the cart vomiting flame and smoke, while the horse became a perfectly frenzied creature, urged on by the noise behind him. Tom could only cling to the reins, Ruth clung to the twins, and all by good providence were saved from an overturn.
All the time – and, of course, the half-mile or more from Caslons’ to the entrance to the Steele estate, was covered in a very few moments – all the time Ruth was praying that the fire-crackers Tom had bought and hidden under the front seat would not be ignited.
The reports of the rockets, and the like, became desultory. Some set pieces and triangles went off with the hissing of snakes. Was the explosion over?
So it seemed, and the maddened horse turned in at the gateway. The cart went in on two wheels, but it did not overturn.
The race had begun to tell on the bay. He was covered with foam and his pace was slackening. Perhaps the peril was over – Ruth drew a long breath for the first time since the horse had made its initial jump.
And then – with startling suddenness – there was a sputter and bang! Off went the firecrackers, package after package. A spark had burned through the paper wrapper and soon there was such a popping under that front seat as shamed the former explosions!
Had the horse been able to run any faster, undoubtedly he would have done so; but as the cart went tearing up the drive toward the front of the big house, the display of fireworks, etc., behind the front seat, and the display of alarm on the part of the four on the seat, advertised to all beholders that the occasion was not, to say the least, a common one.
The cart itself was scorched and was afire in places, the sputtering of the fire-crackers continued while the horse tore up the hill. Tom had bought a generous supply and it took some time for them all to explode.
Fortunately the front drop of the seat was a solid panel of deal, or Ruth’s skirt might have caught on fire – or perhaps the legs of the twins would have been burned.
As for the two little fellows, they never even squealed! Their eyes shone, they had lost their caps in the back of the cart, their short curls blew out straight in the wind, and their cheeks glowed. When the runaway appeared over the crest of the hill and the crowd at Sunrise Farm beheld them, it was evident that Willie and Dickie were enjoying themselves to the full!
Poor Tom, on whose young shoulders the responsibility of the whole affair rested, was braced back, with his feet against the footboard, the lines wrapped around his wrists, and holding the maddened horse in to the best of his ability.
Bobbins on one side, and Ralph Tingley on the other, ran into the roadway and caught the runaway by the bridle. The bay was, perhaps, quite willing to halt by this time. Mr. Steele ran out, and his first exclamation was:
“My goodness, Tom Cameron! you’ve finished that horse!”
“I hope not, sir,” panted Tom, rather pale. “But I thought he’d finish us before he got through.”
By this time the explosions had ceased. Everything of an explosive nature – saving the twins themselves – in the cart seemed to have gone off. And now Willie ejaculated:
“Gee! I never rode so fast before. Wasn’t it great, Dickie?”
“Yep,” agreed Master Dickie, with rather more emphasis than usual.
Sister Sadie appeared from the rear premises, vastly excited, too, but when she lifted the twins down and found not a scratch upon them, she turned to Ruth with a delighted face.
“You took care of them just like you loved ’em, Miss,” she whispered, as Ruth tumbled out of the cart, too, into her arms. “Oh, dear! don’t you dare get sick – you ain’t hurt, are you?”
“No, no!” exclaimed Ruth, having hard work to crowd back the tears. “But I’m almost scared to death. That – that young one!” and she grabbed at Dickie. “What did you drop that punk into the fireworks for?”
“Huh?” questioned the imperturbable Dickie.
“Why didn’t you throw that lighted punk away?” and Ruth was tempted to shake the little rascal.
But instantly the voluble Willie shouldered his way to the front. “Gee, Miss! he thought you wanted him to drop it right there. You said so. An’ – an’ – Well, he didn’t know the things in the box would go off of themselves. Did you Dickie?”
“Nope,” responded his twin.
“Do forgive ’em, Miss Ruth,” whispered Sadie Raby. “I wouldn’t want Mr. Steele to get after ’em. You know – he can be sumpin’ fierce!”
“Well,” sighed Ruth Fielding, “they’re the ‘terrible twins’ right enough. Oh, Tom!” she added, as young Cameron came to her to shake hands.
“You’re getting better and better,” said Tom, grinning. “I’d rather be in a wreck with you, Ruthie – of almost any kind – than with anybody else I know. Those kids don’t even know what you saved them from, when you dragged ’em over the back of that seat.”
“Sh!” she begged, softly.
“And it’s a wonder we weren’t all blown to glory!”
“It was a mercy we were not seriously hurt,” agreed Ruth.
But then there was too much bustle and general talk for them to discuss the incident quietly. The horse was led away to the stable and there attended to. Fortunately he was not really injured, but the cart would have to go to the painter’s.
“A fine beginning for this celebration we have on hand,” declared Mr. Steele, looking ruefully at his wife. “If all that can happen with only two of those fresh air kids, as Bob calls them, on hand, what do you suppose will happen to-night when we have a dozen at Sunrise Farm?”
“Mercy!” gasped the lady. “I am trembling in my shoes – I am, indeed. But we have agreed to do it, Father, and we must carry it through.”
CHAPTER XXII – THE TERRIBLE TWINS ON THE RAMPAGE
The girls who had come to Sunrise Farm to visit at Madge Steele’s invitation, felt no little responsibility when it came to the entertainment for the fresh air orphans. As The Fox said, with her usual decision:
“Now that we’ve put Madge and her folks into this business, we’ll just have to back up their play, and make sure that the fresh airs don’t tear the place down. And that Sadie will have to keep an eye on the ‘terrible twins.’ Is that right?”
“I’ve spoken to poor Sadie,” said Ruth, with a sigh. “I am afraid that Mrs. Steele is very much worried over what may occur to-night, while the children are here. We’ll have to be on the watch all the time.”
“I should say!” exclaimed Heavy Stone. “Let’s suggest to Mr. Steele that he rope off a place out front where he is going to have the fireworks. Some of those little rascals will want to help celebrate, the way Willie and Dickie did,” and the plump girl giggled ecstatically.
“’Twas no laughing matter, Jennie,” complained Ruth, shaking her head.
“Well, that’s all right,” Lluella broke in. “If Tom hadn’t bought the fire-crackers – and that was right against Mr. Steele’s advice – ”
“Oh, here now!” interrupted Helen, loyal to her twin. “Tom wasn’t any more to blame than Bobbins. They were just bought for a joke.”
“It was a joke all right,” Belle said, laughing. “Who’s going to pay for the damage to the cart?”
“Now, let’s not get to bickering,” urged Ruth. “What’s done, is done. We must plan now to make the celebration this afternoon and evening as easy for Mrs. Steele as possible.”
This conversation went on after luncheon, while Bob and Tom had driven down the hill with a big wagon to bring up the ten remaining orphans from Mr. Caslon’s place.
The gaily decorated wagon came in sight just about this time. Fortunately the decorations Tom and Ruth had purchased that forenoon in Darrowtown had not been destroyed when the fireworks went off in the cart.
The girls from Briarwood Hall welcomed the fresh airs cheerfully and took entire charge of the six little girls. The little boys did not wish to play “girls’ games” on the lawn, and therefore Bob and his chums agreed to keep an eye on the youngsters, including the “terrible twins.”
Sadie had been drafted to assist Madge and her mother, and some of the maids, in preparing for the evening collation. Therefore the visitors were divided for the time into two bands.
The girls from the orphanage were quiet enough and well behaved when separated from their boy friends. Indeed, on the lawn and under the big tent Mr. Steele had had erected, the celebration of a “safe and sane” Fourth went on in a most commendable way.
It was a very hot afternoon, and after indulging in a ball game in the field behind the stables, Bobbins, in a thoughtless moment, suggested a swim. Half a mile away there was a pond in a hollow. The boys had been there almost every day for a dip, and Bob’s suggestion was hailed – even by the usually thoughtful Tom Cameron – with satisfaction.
“What about the kids?” demanded Ralph Tingley.
“Let them come along,” said Bobbins.
“Sure,” urged Busy Izzy. “What harm can come to them? We’ll keep our eyes on them.”
The twins and their small chums from the orphanage were eager to go to the pond, too, and so expressed themselves. The half-mile walk through the hot sun did not make them quail. They were proud to be allowed to accompany the bigger boys to the swimming hole.
The little fellows raced along in their bare feet behind the bigger boys and were pleased enough, until they reached the pond and learned that they would only be allowed to go in wading, while the others slipped into their bathing trunks and “went in all over.”
“No! you can’t go in,” declared Bobbins, who put his foot down with decision, having his own small brothers in mind. (They had been left behind, by the way, to be dressed for the evening.)
“Say! the water won’t wet us no more’n it does you – will it, Dickie?” demanded the talkative twin.
“Nope,” agreed his brother.
“Now, you kids keep your clothes on,” said Bob, threateningly. “And don’t wade more than to your knees. If you get your overalls wet, you’ll hear about it. You know Mrs. Caslon fixed you all up for the afternoon and told you to keep clean.”
The smaller chaps were unhappy. That was plain. They paddled their dusty feet in the water for a while, but the sight of the older lads diving and swimming and having such a good time in the pond was a continual temptation. The active minds of the terrible twins were soon at work. Willie began to whisper to Dickie, and the latter nodded his head solemnly.
“Say!” blurted out Willie, finally, as Bob and Tom were racing past them in a boisterous game of “tag.” “We wanter go back. This ain’t no fun – is it, Dickie?”
“Nope,” said his twin.
“Go on back, if you want to. You know the path,” said Bobbins, breathlessly.
“We’re goin’, too,” said one of the other fresh airs.
“We’d rather play with the girls than stay here. Hadn’t we, Dickie?” proposed Willie Raby.
“Yep,” agreed Master Dickie, with due solemnity.
“Go on!” cried Bob. “And see you go straight back to the house. My!” he added to Tom, “but those kids are a nuisance.”
“Think we ought to let them go alone?” queried Tom, with some faint doubt on the subject. “You reckon they’ll be all right, Bobbins?”
“Great Scott! they sure know the way to the house,” said Bob. “It’s a straight path.”
But, as it happened, the twins had no idea of going straight to the house. The pond was fed by a stream that ran in from the east. The little fellows had seen this, and Willie’s idea was to circle around through the woods and find that stream. There they could go in bathing like the bigger boys, “and nobody would ever know.”
“Our heads will be wet,” objected one of the orphans.
“Gee!” said Willie Raby, “don’t let’s wet our heads. We ain’t got to – have we?”
“Nope,” said his brother, promptly.
There was some doubt, still, in the minds of the other boys.
“What you goin’ to say to those folks up to the big house?” demanded one of the fresh airs.
“Ain’t goin’ to say nothin’,” declared the bold Willie. “Cause why? they ain’t goin’ to know – ‘nless you fellers snitch.”
“Aw, who’s goin’ to snitch?” cried the objector, angered at once by the accusation of the worst crime in all the category of boyhood. “We ain’t no tattle-tales – are we, Jim?”
“Naw. We’re as safe to hold our tongues as you an’ yer brother are, Willie Raby – so now!”
“Sure we are!” agreed the other orphans.
“Then come along,” urged the talkative twin. “Nobody’s got to know.”
“Suppose yer sister finds it out?” sneered one.
“Aw – well – she jes’ ain’t go’n’ ter,” cried Willie, exasperated. “An’ what if she does? She runned away herself – didn’t she?”
The spirit of restlessness was strong in the Raby nature, it was evident. Willie was a born leader. The others trailed after him when he left the pathway that led directly back to Sunrise Farm, and pushed into the thicker wood in the direction he believed the stream lay.
The juvenile leader of the party did not know (how should he?) that just above the pond the stream which fed it made a sharp turn. Its waters came out of a deep gorge, lying in an entirely different direction from that toward which the “terrible twins” and their chums were aiming.
The little fellows plodded on for a long time, and the sun dropped suddenly behind the hills to the westward, and there they were – quite surprisingly to themselves – in a strange and fast-darkening forest.