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"Well, mother," said she, twisting the corner of her handkerchief, "I guess I can't say anything about Ruthie Turner; she's a great deal better girl than I am, any way." Days and weeks passed. The snowflakes, which had fallen from time to time, and kept themselves busy making a patchwork quilt for mother Earth, now melted away, and the white quilt was torn into shreds.
"He surely has blown up," stated Jennie Stone with conviction. "Ruthie! what are you going to do?" Wonota was a long way ahead of the Westerner. She was light and she bestrode a horse with much more speed than the one Dakota Joe rode. She lay far along her horse's neck and urged it with her voice rather than a cruel goad.
"Come, now! altogether, girls!" "'Knock, knock, knock! the girls are knocking Bring the hammers all this way!" "Never mind, Ruthie Fielding," complained Lluella. "We don't all of us have the luck you do. All your English made up for you in that scenario " "And who is this made up, I'd be glad to have somebody tell me?" interposed Jennie. "Oh, girls! tell me. Do you all see the same thing I do?"
Under his sunbonnet Andy turned scarlet, but he did not turn toward Ruth. "There goes our Ruthie to sell eggs," called little Margaret White from over her bowl of milk in the kitchen. "Does your leg hurt awful, Ruthie?" Mrs. White at the table did not turn, but she said: "Take heed, Margaret, your milk is spilling. Ruth is all right." As in very truth she was.
If she is our first scholar, she must, somehow, have all the honors that go with the position." "Oh, Ruthie! how can you overcome her natural dislike of 'making an exhibition of herself, as she calls it, and the fact that, really, a girl as lame as she is, poor creature, could never make a pleasant appearance upon the platform?" "I do not know," Ruth said seriously. "Not now.
Ruthie had no answer but a kiss and a smile. "There, away with you into the nursery, both of you. I know Polly Whiting is lonesome without you." Off went the children, Flyaway "with a heart for any fate," but Dotty still oppressed by the shadow of the ten-cent piece. "If I don't give it to Prudy, will I be dishonest? Will I be as bad as Jennie Vance?"
Then she sat down by her grandfather's side. "Would you rather I got you your dinner," she said, "or would you rather I talked to you for a little?" "I'd a sight rather my little Ruth sat near me and let me place my hand on her hair. Your hair is jet-black, Ruthie almost blue-black. So was your father's hair, my child. He was a very handsome boy.
"Oh, I don't think it's as bad as all that, Ruthie," soothed her mother, too simple-minded to accept immediately this clever subtlety of self-deception. "You know this town how people talk. Why, his sister " and she related their conversation at the gate that morning. "You ought to have sat on her hard, Ruth," said Mrs. Warham, with dangerously sparkling eyes.
"Neale doesn't know he is here yet; but Ruthie has asked him to stay to supper " "With your permission, ma'am," said Mr. Sorber, with another flourish of his hat. "Oh, to be sure," agreed the housekeeper. "And Neale runned away from a circus when he came here," said the round-eyed Dot. "No!" gasped the housekeeper. "Yes, Mrs. MacCall," Tess hurried on to say.
"Maybe this is his name Jonas Hatfield." "And Scarboro, New York!" gasped Helen, suddenly. "Why, Ruthie!" "What's the matter?" returned Ruth, in surprise. "What a coincidence!" "What is a coincidence?" demanded Ruth, still greatly amazed by her chum's excitement. "Why this boy if this is his wallet and that is his name and address comes from right about where we are going to-morrow.
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