DOWN LINDEN ROAD
"What is it?" asked Richard eagerly.
"Yes, what is it?" urged Jack.
Warren stooped and picked up something from the road.
"A horse shoe," he said briefly. "One of Belle's--hers were old and
thin, you know, Rich. And over here--" he walked a few steps to a
crossroad--"Sarah must have turned off. You can see the marks."
"Well," sheer relief spoke in Richard's voice, "that's one thing to be
thankful for; if she turned off from the main road, she wouldn't meet
many cars. But how far do you suppose she can have gone down the
Linden road?"
Warren climbed back into the buggy and turned Tony's head down the
Linden road.
"She hasn't gone far, not with Belle," he asserted confidently. "The
old horse couldn't stand a long trip; I don't know whether there are
any places for Sarah to drive in down here, but I hope some kind farmer
has her safely housed."
The Linden road was very dark and there was no moon to help out the two
twinkling buggy lights. Suddenly Tony whinnied.
"Pull in, pull in!" cried Richard excitedly. "I think I see something!"
With a sharp "Whoa!" Warren brought the buggy to a standstill.
"Unscrew one of the lights," he directed Richard, at the same time
jumping out and running to Tony's head with the rope and weight, a wise
precaution for the horse might take fright easily in that strange place
and start to run. "Come on, Jack."
They had to go only a few rods. Then the buggy lamp and the pocket
flash showed them the runabout, with something dark and small curled up
on the seat. The mare was down between the shafts and she raised her
head inquiringly as the lights flashed into her patient eyes.
"Sarah--asleep!" whispered Jack. "And the pig, too!"
"Belle fell down and Sarah couldn't get her up," said Warren, realizing
at once what had occurred. "The poor kid--she must have been
frightened stiff."
Jack pulled himself up on the runabout step and leaned over Sarah. The
tears were not dry on her cheeks and as he looked she opened her dark
eyes with a little cry.
"You're all right, Sarah," he said soothingly. "Warren and Richard and
I have come to take you home."
To his astonishment, Sarah, who hated demonstration of any kind, threw
her arms about his neck and burrowed her face on his shoulder. Bony
rolled protestingly to the floor and squeaked sharply as he hit the
dashboard in his descent.
"The horse fell down," sobbed Sarah, "and she wouldn't get up. And it
got darker and darker and there weren't any houses anywhere. Is Belle
dead, Jack?"
"Not a bit of it," said Jack stoutly. "She was tired, because she is
an old horse and isn't used to traveling far."
"Now that she is rested, we'll have no trouble getting her home," put
in Warren. "You stay where you are, Sarah, till we get her up."
But Sarah had had enough of the runabout and she insisted on climbing
down while the boys got Belle to her feet and went over the harness.
"It's a wonder it didn't slide off her," declared Warren as he cinched
belts and snapped unfastened buckles. "I'll give you a lesson in
harnessing some day, Sarah, for you still have a few points to learn."
It was an odd procession that drove into Rainbow Hill lane an hour
later. They dared not hurry the old horse and Sarah flatly refused to
be taken home in the buggy with Tony, leaving Belle and the runabout to
be driven in at a slower pace. Jack would have bundled her off
unceremoniously but Warren, while admitting that she had "made enough
trouble and ought to consider the feelings of other people once in a
while" would not force the issue.
"She's dead tired and she's been badly frightened," he said quietly.
"After all, it will mean a difference of not more than half an hour.
We'll wait for old Belle."
So Jack and Richard, driving the runabout and the old mare, set the
pace and Sarah and Bony in the buggy with Warren followed behind Tony.
Rosemary and Winnie and the Hildreths came running out to greet the
prodigal, who had to be awakened to answer their eager questions--and
Winnie bore Sarah off to bed while Rosemary flew to the kitchen and
began making sandwiches to serve with the ginger ale she knew was in
the ice box. Excitement has a way of making people hungry and the boys
especially were appreciative of the refreshments.
Doctor Hugh read his small sister a severe lecture the next morning
when, upon his return with his mother, he heard the story, and
extracted her promise that hereafter she would not leave the farm
without explicit permission. A subdued Sarah made a shamefaced apology
to Mr. Hildreth for taking his horse and runabout and for as much as
three days she slipped about like a meek little shadow.
"Jack told me you found the horse shoe, Warren," said Rosemary, meeting
Warren that next morning as he came from the creamery. "So you really
found Sarah for us--and I think you are very quick and clever."
"Any one of us would have found her," declared Warren lightly. "You
can't really lose a little girl and a horse--you're bound to fall over
them sometime, sooner or later."
"Sarah might have had to spend the night on that lonely road," insisted
Rosemary. "Hugh says so, too. And Mother thinks just as we do."
She turned, with a little determined nod of her pretty head.
"Rosemary!" Warren's voice halted her.
He made no motion to drive on to the barn but sat in the wagon, holding
the reins, and looking at her steadily.
"You're not angry with me now?" he said.
Rosemary was perplexed.
"Of course not."
"But you were a night or two ago--when I met you and Doctor Hugh?"
The tell-tale color rose under Rosemary's smooth skin.
"Well--" she hesitated. "Perhaps I was then--just a little. But I get
mad so easily, Warren, it doesn't count."
"I'd prefer," said Warren composedly, "to always be good friends with
you."
The impulsive Rosemary took a step forward that brought her close to
the wagon.
"We _are_ friends," she assured Warren eagerly. Then, mischief welling
up in her blue eyes, "When you've known me a little longer you'll find
out that I often quarrel with my friends."
"I don't," said Warren soberly, but he drove away to the barn whistling
merrily.
The few days remaining of Doctor Hugh's vacation and Jack's agreement
with Mr. Hildreth, passed quickly and pleasantly. The three boys
worked together in perfect harmony and Jack began to enjoy a sense of
power and ease that came with the hardening of his muscles. The sun
might be hot, but the rays no longer made him uncomfortable--the rows
of vines were as long as ever, but he swung down them easily and picked
the ripe tomatoes almost automatically.
"I don't see why you don't finish out the month," Mr. Hildreth said to
him the night before his two weeks were over. "I'd like to have you
first rate and it seems a pity to leave just when you're broke in."
Somewhat to his surprise, Jack heard himself agreeing to stay. Warren
and Richard heartily applauded his decision and Doctor Hugh agreed to
carry back an approved report to Mrs. Welles.
"It will do you good, in many ways, Jack," said the doctor seriously.
"And if you are going to try for the football team this fall, you'll be
in the pink of condition."
The next day Doctor Hugh went back to resume his regular schedule
though, he promised his disconsolate family, he would try to spend the
week-ends, or Sundays at least, with them.
"But I hope you realize that the summer is almost over," he told
Rosemary who was riding with him down to the cross-roads where she
expected to get out and walk back. "School opens next month and we
must be safely moved back to Eastshore before that important day. You
have not more than four weeks left to spend at Rainbow Hill, young
lady."
"I'll go over and see Louisa," said Rosemary to herself, as she reached
the back road that led to the Gay farm, after leaving her brother.
"Mother won't expect me back till lunch time, for I told her I might
stop in and see Miss Clinton. But I've seen Louisa only once since
Hugh came."
The Gay farm looked more dilapidated than ever to Rosemary's eyes and
the little attempt at a flower bed, in the center of the long, dried
grass before the house, only made the general effect more hopeless.
Rosemary walked around to the back door and knocked. Louisa answered,
carrying June in her arms.
"I thought maybe you'd gone back to Eastshore," said Louisa dully, "but
Sarah and Shirley said no, your brother was visiting for his vacation."
"Yes, Hugh did come," answered Rosemary honestly, "and we went
somewhere with him nearly every day, if only over the farm. I would
have liked to bring him to see you and Alec, but I was afraid--I
thought--"
"Mercy, I'm glad you didn't!" the idea seemed enough to frighten
Louisa. "I wouldn't want a stranger coming here."
"Louisa, do you know Miss Clinton?" asked Rosemary suddenly. "She
lives all by herself and she is so lonesome."
She had a hazy thought of suggesting that Louisa might be willing to go
and see Miss Clinton--Louisa needed friends as badly as the little
wheel-chair woman did--but the girl's answer was not encouraging.
"She lives in that little yellow house," said Louisa. "She may be
lonely, but she has enough money to live on and no one need be pitied
who can keep out of debt."
"Oh, Louisa!" Rosemary drew nearer in concern. "Haven't you the money
for the interest?"
"Not a cent," said Louisa bitterly. "The little we did have saved
toward it, we had to spend on a pump. The old one gave out and you
can't get along without water, no matter what else you can do without."
Rosemary glanced toward the shining new pump--so obviously new and
shiny that it made everything else in the kitchen look shabbier by
contrast.
"There ought to be _some_ way to get money when you need it," she said
earnestly.
"There isn't," Louisa informed her. "Don't you suppose I've thought
and thought? No matter how much you need it, there isn't any money to
get--and if there was, you wouldn't need it because it would be there
to get," and Louisa laughed rather hysterically.
"That may not make good sense," she added, "but I can't help that; it
is true."