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Updated: July 1, 2025
"And give nothing?" suggested Ruth, shaking her head. "Nobody can say with truth that you are selfish, Ruthie Fielding," put in Jennie. "In fact, you are always giving, and never taking." Ruth laughed at this. "You are wrong," she said. "The more you give the more you get. At least, I find it so. And we are getting right now, on this trip to the great Northwest, much more than we are giving.
"You're a goose, Ruthie," declared her chum. "You're not to blame. Her father's harshness with her has made the child run away. If she has." "Her own unhappy disposition has caused all the trouble," said Ann, bitterly. "Oh! don't speak so," begged Ruth. "Suppose something has happened to her." "Nothing ever happens to kids like her," said Ann, bruskly. But that was not so.
"Oh, yes, Miss Ruthie," said the matron. "Miss Picolet is in. You can knock." As Ruth asked this question and received its answer she saw Mary Cox come in alone at the hall door. The Fox had not spoken to Ruth since the accident on the ice. Now she cast no pleasant glance in Ruth's direction.
"Is he badly hurt?" cried Mr. Cameron, who dared not get down and leave the horses just then. "Don't tell us he is killed, Ruthie!" wailed Helen, clasping her hands and unable to leave the carriage. The Gypsy boy lay very still. One arm was bent under him in such a queer position that the girl of the Red Mill knew it must be broken.
"Oh, dear me! oh, dear me!" gasped Miss Picolet. "I presume it is posi-tive that there is nobody up there? Were all the mesdemoiselles at supper this evening?" "Yes, yes," said Mrs. Tellingham's own voice. "Miss Brokaw has called the roll and there is none missing but our Ruthie. And now you would better run back, my dear," she added to Ruth. "You have no wrap or hat. I fear you will take cold."
"That is the way, Major. Interlock your hands with mine. Lean back, Ruthie. We'll get you out of this all right." It was a three-hour trip to the American trenches, however, and, after a while, Ruth insisted upon being set down. She did not want to overburden her two companions. At the listening post an officer was sent for who recognized Major Marchand and who took Tom and Ruth "on trust."
As a rule, the namby-pamby Christians stay away from such places; or, if they come, they float off to Saratoga or some more kindred climate. I beg your pardon, Ruthie, that doesn't mean you, you know, because you are not one of any sort." "Then do you take it to be their religion which inclines you to trust to their word, without having an individual acquaintance with them?"
"Not from this end of the cave, at any rate. I tell you, tons and tons of snow fell into its mouth." "But you know the other way out, Ruthie?" urged Lluella, half inclined to cry. "I think so," returned the girl of the Red Mill. "Then just hunt for the way," said Belle, firmly. "If it has stopped snowing I want to go home." "Don't be a baby, Belle," advised her brother Ralph.
As often as Dinah refused a teaspoonful, she put it into her own mouth, saying, with a wise nod, "My child, she's sick; hasn't any appletite." Out of doors it was raining heartily. It seemed as if the "upper deep" was tipping over, and pouring itself into the lap of the earth. "O, Ruthie," sighed Dotty Dimple, "my mother won't come while it's such weather.
"I'm sure I don't know," said the oldest Corner House girl. "I haven't been invited yet." "Nor me, either," confessed Agnes. "Don't you suppose we shall be? I want to go, awfully, Ruthie." "It's the first really big party that's been gotten up this winter," agreed Ruth. "I don't know Carrie Poole very well, though she's in my class."
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