MORE RESULTS.
When Flora entered the house she found her brothers there before her,
and both very quiet. It had grown to be such a pleasant thing to find
their cheery sister at home when they came in, that they had almost
unconsciously commenced to look forward to seeing her, and hearing her
merry voice. They hastened home from school, and felt, but never
expressed, disappointment when she was not there.
Flora, while not yet so wise and thoughtful as her friend Ruth, was
daily learning lessons of usefulness, and continually using and
developing new powers heretofore latent, and with her natural tact
refrained from commenting upon many changes easily observed, going on in
the habits of her brothers. And now she simply smiled at Harry, and
pinched Alec's ear playfully, as she passed him.
Then she went to her room to remove her hat, and hastened back to help
her mother with the dinner. While putting the dishes on the table she
imparted her news to Harry and Alec, between her trips from table to
pantry. They were both well pleased to have the prospect of being able
to brighten the lives of Major Joe and Mrs. Benson. They considered
Flora very bright to come to the conclusion she did.
"I forgot all about that story soon after I heard it," said Alec,
conscious stricken. "Didn't you, Hal?"
"I am afraid I did," laughed his brother. "But what else was there for
me to do? I knew no way in which I might help, as Flora did."
"That's so," rejoined Alec, in a relieved tone, willing to share in his
brother's self-absolution.
"Of course neither of you could have done anything, for you did not know
Ruth. But tell me, what will be best to do?" asked Flora, pausing with a
dish she was carrying to the table.
"I know," said Harry. "To-morrow is Saturday and market day also, and we
all can go and see Major Joe in his stall, and tell him what we have
heard, and what we think. If he is interested, one of us can stay at his
stall while he goes and sees Ruth."
"How glad he will be; and how glad I am," said Flora. "It would be
dreadful for Ruth and poor little Jem to be left with no one to take
care of them."
Thus the question was decided.
The next morning Major Joe was surprised by a visit from all three of
his young friends, and none the less delighted to see them, however,
because they came unexpectedly, and he gave them a hearty welcome. It
was understood beforehand that Flora was to be the one to open the
subject, and explain matters. She did not tell everything at once, as
Alec thought she ought to do, but approached the object of their visit
in a delicate way.
"Major Joe; guess what brought us here to-day."
"I'm sure I can't say," answered the old man, rubbing his rough hands
together, with a beaming smile. "Maybe to see your old friend?"
"To be sure; we're always glad to do that," replied Flora, as she placed
the little bunches of parsley and thyme in more perfect order. "We have
come for something else. Something very important," she added, seeing
that Major Joe had no curiosity as to the nature of their errand with
him.
"What would you say if I told you we had found somebody who belongs to
you?"
"To me?" queried the puzzled man. "I don't see how you could do that."
"Yes, but I have," said Flora. "I am sure of it."
The old major shook his head doubtingly.
"And I want you to come with me and see if what I said is not true,"
persisted Flora, coaxingly.
"But how can I?" questioned Major Joe in reply. "I cannot leave my
stall--who would wait on my customers?"
"Why not let me take charge until you return," asked Harry, speaking for
the first time.
"And I can help," added Alec.
"Now you see it's all fixed," said Flora.
"Surely you're not afraid to trust us, are you?" asked Harry, as he saw
his old friend still undecided.
"No, no; it's not that, my boy; only----"
"Only nothing," interrupted Flora, laughingly. "You must come, so say no
more about it." And she caught his arm and led him away, an unwilling
and unbelieving captive.
Ruth opened the door in answer to Flora's gentle tap. The latter could
no longer restrain her impatience.
"Now, Major Joe," she exclaimed, softly, for fear of disturbing the
sick man, "whom does this little sobersides remind you of?"
At first the old man looked from one to the other in a bewildered
manner. Then his eyes rested on Ruth's face long and attentively. The
tears gathered, and he involuntarily held out his hand, and said,
softly, "Ruthie."
Scarcely realizing what she was doing, Ruth, probably drawn by the
tender, loving tone that touched her heart, put her own in it.
"Who is she? What does it all mean?" asked the major, looking helplessly
at Flora.
"It means," answered Flora, softly, "that this is truly Ruthie. Not your
own Ruth, but her daughter and namesake--your grand-daughter Ruth."
"Is that so? Are you sure? Don't say so if you ain't," pleaded the old
man. And then the thought flashed across Flora's mind that perhaps after
all she was mistaken, and had only brought her old friend there to be
disappointed.
"Ruth dear," she said, dropping into a chair, weakened by the very
thought, "tell him--tell him all about yourself; your mother's name, and
everything. Do, please, quick!"
Ruth told the history of her dead mother's life, as she had heard it
from her own lips.
Eagerly Major Joe listened, and when she was through, he held out his
arms to her, saying:
"You are my poor Ruth's daughter," and the tears prevented him from
adding more. Ruth and Flora wiped their eyes in sympathy: Ruth rejoicing
in the possession of a grandfather; Flora, that provision was thus made
for Ruth.
This tearful trio was interrupted a moment later by the entrance of Jem,
carrying her doll under one arm, and her beloved Pokey under the other.
"Why, Ruth Rudd, I'm extonished at you, hugging a old market man!" and
Jem looked at her sister with unbounded disapproval.
"Hush Jem, you must not talk so," said Ruth. "This is our grandfather."
"Not mine," returned matter-of-fact Jem, standing still in the middle of
the room, and looking suspiciously at the visitor. "Not mine. I never
had any, and don't want one."
"Who is this?" asked Major Joe, looking at the defiant little figure
dubiously.
"She is my half-sister," answered Ruth.
"Well, well," said her grandfather, "she ain't Ruth's child, so I've no
call to take her when I take you, Ruth. Her father can send her to his
own people."
"Then, grandfather, I cannot go with you," said Ruth, sadly, but firmly.
"I will never leave Jem."
"Ruth, you're not going to leave me, are you?" cried the little girl.
"No, indeed, dear, I shall not leave you. It was not very nice for you
to speak of grandpa as you did just now. You should always be polite to
an old person. Remember this, Jem."
"I don't care," said Jem, defiantly. "He's horrid. He wants to take you
away, and you're all I've got 'cept father, and--and he's going to die,"
she sobbed, hiding her face in Ruth's arms.
"Don't cry, Jem. I will not leave my little sister. What could I do
without you?"
"No, no, little one, Ruth's grandfather won't part you, if you're so
fond of each other." And the major came over and patted the sobbing
child's head, soothingly. His was too tender a heart to withstand the
sight of a child in distress, so it was soon settled that he was to be
Jem's grandfather also, which arrangement was accepted by the little
girl as readily as she had rejected the idea a moment before.
Then the major, his heart made very tender by memories of the past, was
ready to visit the invalid.
John Rudd had always been a quiet man, but willful and determined to
succeed in whatever he undertook. He was not bad at heart, and when a
wrong act was committed it was invariably caused by obstinacy. He
usually quickly repented of his course, and made all reparation in his
power.
Knowing that Mr. and Mrs. Benson did not like him as well as he had
hoped, he determined to marry Ruth, and to prohibit all intercourse with
her family. In everything else he was thoroughly honorable, but he
tenaciously held to this point. Ruth Benson, loving him devotedly, and
believing all he said or did was infallible, implicitly obeyed this
strange request without a question, and neither did she hear of or from
her parents.
That the unnecessary sacrifice did not add to her happiness, was proven
by the fact that she lost her free, light-hearted ways, and became quiet
and melancholy, after a year or two of married life. Her husband was
proud--too proud to admit that he had made a mistake, until it was too
late for such an admission to do any good, and so after a few years she
died, leaving behind her little namesake, Ruth. She seemed to have
transmitted to the child in a large measure her own disposition, for
Ruth was always a grave, silent, little thing, entirely unlike other
children, and quite old for her years.
It was nice too, she possessed such a sweet disposition and even temper,
for when her father brought home a new mother for the little Ruth, many
changes were made in the home, and great would have been the discord but
for Ruth's peaceful characteristics. Shortly after his second marriage,
John Rudd moved to Bartonville, whether for business openings, or to be
near the early home of Ruth's mother, no one ever knew.
Ruth knew the story of her mother's married life, of the home of her
girlhood, and of the kind parents, but she did not know where the home
was.
Whatever the reason for his coming, it was well for Ruth and Jem, for as
I have said, provision was now made for them both at Major Joe's farm.
Ruth's life thus far, since the cares of the home were put upon her at
the death of Jem's mother, had been an uneventful one. She had no
companion but her little sister, who so filled her brain, and heart, and
time, that she had no opportunity to grow lonesome. Personally, Ruth
would have felt happier if her father had allowed the love, she doubted
not he held for her, to find expression in a word of praise, a tender
kiss, or appreciation of her efforts. But her father never thought of
this longing of his daughter: he was so self-contained himself, and
unemotionally inclined, that he could not have understood this craving,
even had he known of its existence, which it is needless to say, he did
not.
It was rather hard for so young a girl to persevere in her home-making
with such a singleness of purpose as Ruth displayed, to give up her
beloved studies without a sigh of regret, and to strive to train her
younger sister, knowing she would receive no word of approbation from
her father.