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"That won't do," declared Ruth, quickly. "I suppose the doctors are busy up there with other passengers?" "Oh, yes," admitted Jane Ann. "Lots of people were hurt in the cars a good deal worse than Mr. Mr. ?" "My name's Jerry Sheming, Miss," said the youth. "Don't you worry about me." "Here's Tom!" cried Helen. "Can't we lift him into the car? We'll run to Cheslow and let Dr.
"I'll keep the horn blowing," Helen said, suiting action to her speech and sounding a musical blast through the wooded country that lay all about. "He ought to know his own auto-horn." The tone of the horn was peculiar. Ruth could always distinguish it from any other as Tom speeded along the Cheslow road toward the Red Mill. But then, she was perhaps subconsciously listening for its mellow note.
Now Ruth and her schoolmates had returned to the Red Mill and Cheslow, and but a brief space would elapse before the girls would begin their third year at Briarwood Hall; they were all looking toward the beginning of the fall term with great eagerness.
Aunt Alvirah stood on the porch and waved her apron at Ruth every time the girl turned around, until the wagon had crossed the bridge and was way up the long hill on the Cheslow road. It was a delightful June afternoon and had Ruth been traversing this pleasant highway in almost any other way, she would have enjoyed the ride mightily.
They crossed the tracks and came to a street that soon became a country road. Cheslow did not spread itself very far in this direction. Doctor Davison explained to Ruth that the settlement had begun to grow in the parts beyond the railroad and that all this side of the tracks was considered the old part of the town.
Aside from Mercy, who was the daughter of the Cheslow railroad station agent, and therefore lived in Cheslow all the year around, the girls were not native to the place. They had just left that pretty town behind them. It appeared that Ruth, Helen, and surely Jennie Stone, knew very few of the young men of Cheslow. So this jaunt was, as Jennie saucily said, entirely "poulette".
Somehow she did not have to explain all this to Doctor Davison. He seemed to understand it when he nodded and his eyes twinkled so glowingly. "Cheslow is a pleasant town. You will like it," he said, cheerfully. "The Red Mill is five miles out on the Lake Osago Road. It is a pretty country. It will be dark when you ride over it to-night; but you will like it when you see it by daylight."
It had washed away a little bridge that spanned what was usually a rill, but the banks of this stream being overflowed for yards on either side, the channel was at least ten feet deep. It was Jabez Potter driving so recklessly down the hill from Cheslow. "Oh, oh!" screamed the old lady. "Jabez will be killed! Oh, my back and oh, my bones! Oh, deary, deary me!"
The whole world, indeed, gave thanks that it was possible for a young captain in the American Expeditionary Forces to look forward to his release and return to his home. The armistice had been declared. Cheslow, like every town and city in the Union, celebrated the great occasion. It was not merely a day's celebration.
"And and this po poor girl, too," stammered Tom's sister, as the car jounced over a particularly rough piece of road. Hazel Gray opened her eyes languidly, murmuring: "I shall be all right, thank you! Just drive to the hotel " "What hotel?" asked Ruth, laughing. "In Cheslow. I don't know the name of it," whispered Hazel Gray. "Is there more than one?"
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