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We will have to look for a chaperon." "Aunt Kate!" exclaimed Ruth. "Heavy's Aunt Kate. She is just what Helen declares she wants to be an old-maid aunt." "And a lovely lady," cried Helen. "Sure. Ask her. Beg her," agreed Tom. "Tell her it is the crying need. We have positively got to have some fun." "Well, I suppose we may as well," Ruth sighed, in agreement. "Yes.
"Had I been acquainted with the road! But it was late when I arrived at the inn, and my horse had done a heavy's day work. You are a native of the district, monsieur?" turning to me. "If you make the district wide enough," I answered, with a laugh. "You have escaped the ravages of war in these parts; you are fortunate. One can ride here without loosening his sword."
Mary says it's 'Whangdoodle Pudding, with Lallygag Sauce'; but you needn't be afraid of the fancy name she gives it," added the plump girl, rolling her eyes. "It's just scrumptious!" They laughed at Heavy's ecstasies, yet all did full justice to the pudding. Such a hearty appetite as everybody had!
The shouts that greeted Heavy's seriously put remark did not disturb the fleshy girl at all. "That is exactly the trouble," she went on, quite placidly. "And it cost me half a dollar yesterday." "What's that?" asked somebody, curiously. "Where?" asked another girl. "In chapel. Didn't you see me trying to crawl through between the two rows of seats? And I got stuck!"
"I s'pose I must hev taken two whole bottles. I never, never felt so heavy's this before! What's the old Pan lyin' on it's side fer?" "'Tain't on its side," snapped Phoebe. "The old thing's run away, Copernicus Droop, an' it's all your fault." There was a quiver in her voice. "Run away!" said Droop, opening his eyes again. "Where to?"
At last just in time to save Heavy's life, it would seem Miss Picolet lifted her fork and the girls began to eat. A pleasant interchange of conversation broke out: "Did you hear what that funny little Pease girl said to Miss Brokaw in physiology class yesterday?" asked Lluella Fairfax, who was across the table from Ruth. "No. What has the child said now?
You're a good little thing." "Miss Picolet will see you, Ruth," whispered Helen, on her other side. "She is disgusted with Heavy's piggishness. But Miss Picolet, after all, won't say anything to you. You are her pet." "Don't say that, Helen," replied Ruth, with some sadness. "I am sorry for Miss Picolet." "I don't see why you need be. She seems to get along very well," returned her chum.
"Which she thinks is French for 'old hen," scoffed the tart Mercy. "I do not know which is worse," Ruth Fielding said with a sigh, as Helen slowed down for a railroad crossing at which stood a flagman. "Heavy's French or her slang." "Slang! Never!" cried the plump girl, tossing her head "Far be it from me and et cetera. I never use slang.
"We'd better set up an auction block before the door of the hotel and auction her off to the highest bidder, hadn't we?" suggested Helen, who had been rummaging in her bag. "Here, Bella! If you want a shirt-waist to take the place of that calico blouse you have on, here is one. One of mine. And I guarantee it will fit you better than Heavy's did. She wears an extra size."
Jennie Stone was quite full of it, although Ruth knew from the unimpeachable testimony of Jennie's nose that she was not among the hazers; and the sounding of the mysterious harp-strings in the middle of the night really endangered Heavy's appetite for breakfast.
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