THE NEWCOMER
At three o'clock on the afternoon of the twelfth of October the
Hamilton house was very still. Mrs. Hamilton had gone into town,
the housemaid was taking her "afternoon out," and the cook, who
had been kept awake by toothache the night before, was enjoying a
nap.
Just about this time Arthur peered cautiously from his room. No one
being in sight he came out slowly and carefully on his crutches.
"I can do miles of exercise in this hall," he said to himself with
grim satisfaction, "as long as there is no one to watch me."
He went up and down once, and then with great effort for a second
time. Just as he was about ready to start again, the door-bell rang.
He went carefully toward the door of his own room, always afraid
of toppling over, and paused when he got there to listen. The bell
rang again, this time more insistently, and he wondered impatiently
where Katie and Ellen were, and why some one didn't go to the door.
A third peal of the bell sent him back to the hall window. From
there he could see the depot carriage with a trunk on the back, and
the driver looking expectantly at the house. He could hear voices
on the steps below, but could see no one until, after a fourth
ring, a gentleman and a young girl went slowly down the steps and
stood looking back at the house.
"It's that girl, and she's come a day too soon," gasped Arthur. He
threw up the hall window and spoke to them.
"If you will wait a moment longer," he said, "I will try to find
some one to open the door for you."
The gentleman bowed and thanked him, the girl smiled, and Arthur
left the window, inwardly vowing vengeance on faithless maids who
didn't attend to their duties. He groaned as he suddenly remembered
that it was Katie's afternoon out. He might as well go downstairs
himself as take the long journey through the house to find Ellen.
"If I try to go down on these old sticks, they'll have to break
open the door and pick me up," he said to himself with a rueful
smile." I'll try it baby fashion." Sitting down, he let his crutches
slide along beside him, and holding the injured leg straight out
before him hitched along from stair to stair until he reached the
bottom. Then with even greater caution than he had used before he
walked to the door and opened it.
A bright-faced girl stood on the step and without waiting for Arthur
to speak said pleasantly, "I am Ruth Shirley, and I am afraid you
are not expecting me until to-morrow."
"I am sure mother didn't expect you to-day, for she has gone in town
and won't be back before five o'clock," said Arthur, unpleasantly
conscious of his crutches, his dressing-gown and his distracted-looking
hair.
Ruth turned to the gentleman who was with her and held out her
hand. "Thank you very much, Mr. Ingersoll, for taking care of me
so nicely. I shall write father all about your kindness."
"It was a very great pleasure, Miss Ruth," answered Mr. Ingersoll,
"and I shall hope some day to be able to tell your father what a
delightful traveling companion I found you. I am only sorry that I
must say good-bye so soon." The driver having carried in her trunk,
Ruth shook hands warmly with Mr. Ingersoll and watched him with a
little homesick pang as he stepped into the carriage and was driven
away. Then she walked into the house with the curious idea that she
was either just waking from a dream or was just going to begin one.
"I feel like those funny little girls in the wonderland stories who
open mysterious doors and have ail sorts of adventures," she said
with a nervous little laugh.
Arthur was distinctly conscious that he wished she had opened some
other mysterious door than his own. What on earth should he do with
a strange girl for the next hour or more?
"You'd like to go up to your room, I'm sure," he said at last
with almost a gasp of relief. "I'll show you," he added, and then
stopped short. How was he going to get up those stairs again? Would
it be possible for him to make such an exhibition of himself with
the eyes of a girl upon him?
"I think you'll have to let me tell you where it is," he said
finally. "It is the last room on the right as you go toward the
back of the house, and I think you will find everything there to
make you comfortable until my mother gets home."
Ruth was rather awed by his excessive dignity, and because she was
a little nervous, and tired from her long journey, felt an intense
desire to laugh at him, at herself, or at nothing at all, for that
matter. She managed to restrain herself, however, and with a meek
"thank you," picked up her bag and went up-stairs.
Arthur saw her disappear with a sigh of relief. "I'll wait until
she gets nicely settled in her room, and then I'll crawl up-stairs,"
he said to himself, dropping wearily into one of the hall chairs.
He had sat there but a moment when to his horror he heard some one
coming quickly through the dining-room, and then a surprised voice
said:
"Why, Arthur! How good it seems to see you down-stairs again!"
"Oh, hello, Betty," answered Arthur, immensely relieved to find
that it was no one more formidable. "How did you get in?"
"I slipped in the back door and found Ellen just coming down-stairs
rubbing her eyes. She said she thought she heard the bell ring,
but wasn't sure," finished Betty with a mischievous twinkle in her
eye. "I saw it all from my window, and knew your mother had gone
in town, so I thought I'd run over and see if I could do anything
for any one."
"You're a trump, Betty, and you can do something," answered Arthur
gratefully. "Of course I had to ask her to go up to her room, and
I was just thinking she'd be rather forlorn sitting there until
mother gets here. It will be just the thing for you to go up and
talk to her."
"Well, I will," said Betty, and started up the stairs. Half-way up
she paused and then came back. "I've got to run back home, Arthur.
There's something I want to get before I meet Ruth, and I won't be
gone a minute."
She was out of the house in a second, and Arthur left to himself
wondered if he should have time to get up-stairs before her return.
"I should be afraid to try it," he thought; "she's as quick as a
flash, and I should probably be stuck half-way up by the time she
got back. I'll wait until the girls get to talking and then they
won't hear anything."
In the meantime the pretty pink room was doing its best to make
the new occupant feel at home.
"What a dear room!" Ruth said involuntarily as she stepped across
the threshold, and, as if to welcome the little mistress, the
andirons gleamed brightly, the polished teakettle shone with all
its might, and a capacious couch heaped with pillows and covered
with a gay Bagdad looked so comfortable that Ruth longed to try it
at once. She couldn't resist the temptation to peep into the desk
which stood in the comer, and she oh-ed with delight over the dainty
paper and the pretty silver penholder with her name engraved on
it.
"I suppose you must belong to me, you dear room," she said half
aloud, "but I didn't think that I should have such a pretty one."
She looked at the desk with great satisfaction. She opened the
little drawers and found to her surprise that one was filled with
foreign note-paper in delicate blue. "Just what I want for my
letters to papa," she thought with a little sigh, "and it was so
thoughtful of them to get blue, for that will express my feelings
so much better."
"It's quite like having a fairy godmother," she said aloud, as her
eye took in a carved book-rack filled with books, and wandered to
the pretty tea-table where a tall chocolate pot seemed to proclaim
that nothing so harmful as tea should be taken by the girls who
might make merry there.
"She's every bit as nice as a fairy god-mother," said a gay voice,
and Ruth turned suddenly to see standing in the doorway a plump,
red-haired girl with a fuzzy black kitten nestling on her shoulder.
"On, you are Betty, I know," cried Ruth, much to the astonishment
of her guest.
"I am, but I don't see how you knew," answered Betty, opening her
brown eyes very wide.
"Oh, the fairy godmother wrote me about you," laughed Ruth, "and I've
looked at your picture at intervals all the way on from Chicago."
"Then you know Charlotte and Dorothy, too, and we shan't seem like
strangers," said Betty with great satisfaction. "I live just across
the street, and I saw you come and knew Mrs. Hamilton had gone in
town, so I thought I'd run over and see you."
Ruth smiled gratefully. "I'm glad you did, for I do feel just a
bit lonesome. What a darling kitten," she continued, stroking the
soft head as the black mite blinked sleepily at her and stretched
out a tiny paw.
"I thought I'd bring him over," said Betty, "because kittens are
such a comfort to me, and I hoped you liked them, too. Mrs. Hamilton
says you may have a kitten if you want one, and I thought this one
would look so well on your white rug that I chose him."
"Is he really for me?" cried Ruth as she took him gently in her arms
and sat down on the rug. "You couldn't have brought me anything I
should have liked better. I had to give away my kitten when I left
home and I had begun to miss the dear thing already."
"I told the girls I was sure you liked kittens," said Betty
triumphantly, "and now I shall crow over them, for they are always
laughing at me for liking them so much. Charlotte says that a kitten
is my trade-mark."
"Tell me about Charlotte," said Ruth eagerly. "Is she as much like
her picture as you are?"
"Charlotte is a dear, and I know you'll like her, though some of
the girls call her queer and odd and never do get really acquainted
with her. She's tall and thin and doesn't look very strong, and
I'm afraid you won't think her a bit pretty. I'm so fond of her,
though, that she always looks pretty to me," ended Betty loyally,
trying to do full justice to her friend and yet be honest.
"She sounds interesting," murmured Ruth, rubbing the sleepy kitten
under its chin and beginning to feel less homesick.
"Interesting! I should say so!" replied Betty energetically. "Why,
she's the cleverest girl I know; there isn't anything she can't
do; and she writes the most beautiful stories. I don't see how,
for it's more than I can do to write the essays we have in school."
"I don't mind so much writing essays, but I do hate arithmetic and
algebra, and I never can get them through my head. Papa says I must
go to school here, but I'm afraid I shan't be far enough along to
go in the class with you," said Ruth soberly.
"Oh, that will be too bad. But if you can't, you can probably go in
with Dorothy, for she's a class behind Charlotte and me. Dolly's
great fun," continued Betty; "she has long braids of really golden
hair, and blue eyes and the prettiest color in her cheeks. She's
full of fun and always ready for a good time. Her father has a
great deal of money, I suppose, for she has an allowance and lots
of pretty clothes, and doesn't have to economize the way Charlotte
and I do."
"I have an allowance, but it isn't a very big one and I never know
where it goes to," confessed Ruth. "Papa wants me to keep a cash
account this winter, and send it over to him every month. but I
know I shall make awful work of it."
"I tried it once when grandma gave me five dollars to spend just
as I liked," said Betty with a laugh. "I got along pretty well
considering it was the first time, but when I came to balance it
I was forty-three cents short and so I wrote at the end, 'Gone, I
know not where, forty-three cents.' I showed it to father, and he
has never got over it; he said it was the most poetical entry he
had ever seen in a cash account."
Just then there was a knock at the door, and Betty opened it to
find Ellen standing there, with her face wreathed in smiles and a
tray in her hands.
"Mr. Arthur thought you might be hungry, Miss," she said to Ruth,
"and so I brought you up a cup of chocolate and a bit of bread and
butter to make you last till dinner time. I thought perhaps Miss
Betty might like some, too," she added with a sly smile.
"Did you ever know the time when I wasn't ready for a cup of your
chocolate, Ellen?" replied Betty enthusiastically. "She makes the
best chocolate you ever tasted, Ruth."
"Oh, now you're flatterin' me, Miss Betty, dear," said Ellen,
backing out of the door in pretended confusion.
"Not a bit of it. You know it's so yourself," called Betty as the
door closed. "Wasn't it nice of Arthur to think of it?" she added,
as they settled down to their cozy lunch.
"Very," answered Ruth, who, at sight of the thin bread and butter
and the steaming chocolate topped with small mountains of whipped
cream, had just found out that she was really hungry and couldn't
wait another moment.
While the girls had been talking, Arthur had been trying to make
up his mind to start up the stairs again. The flight looked endless
to him, and after the excitement and effort he had just been through
he felt weak and miserable. Time after time he decided to start,
and once he got as far as the stairs, but a sudden sound drove him
back to the hall sofa again. How could he tell that Betty might not
come down at any minute and perhaps bring Ruth with her? At last a
brilliant idea struck him. Ruth must be hungry after her journey,
and if Ellen should take up a lunch it would keep them busy for
some time at least. He made his way out into the kitchen, where
Ellen received him with wonder and delight, and almost cried over
him, so great was her joy at seeing him down-stairs once more.
Then, having waited until the tray was safely in Ruth's room, he
started up-stairs. It was no small undertaking to hitch along, one
stair at a time, dragging a stiff, painful leg, and pulling his
crutches after him. At last, however, with only three more stairs
before him, he stopped to rest a moment and began to breathe more
easily.
"There," said Ruth, as she finished her last piece of bread
and butter and set down her cup with hardly a drop in it, "I feel
like another girl. I didn't know how hungry I was. I couldn't eat
any dinner on the train because I felt so badly over leaving papa
and----"
A strange noise interrupted her. A noise of some one or something
clattering, bumping, sliding down-stairs.
"What do you think it is, Betty?" asked Ruth turning pale.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," answered Betty, who had
already started for the hall. As they reached the top of the stairs
they stopped short, for there sat Arthur, very red, very much out
of breath and, it must be confessed, very cross.
"Oh, Arthur, how you scared us! I thought some one was just about
killed," cried Betty.
"It was those confounded crutches," answered Arthur gruffly. "They
slipped just as I reached the top stair, and I nearly broke my
neck trying to catch them. I don't see how I am going to get into
my room unless you'll get them for me, Betty," he added helplessly.
"Why, of course; how stupid of me not to think of it!" said Betty,
as she slipped by him and ran lightly down the stairs.
Ruth stood in the hall feeling very ill at ease. She wished Arthur
would laugh and make things seem less solemn. Then as he didn't
look at her or say a word she went back into her room again.
"Wasn't that too bad?" said Betty softly as she came in and closed
the door. "Arthur is dreadfully sensitive about his lameness, and
I am afraid it will take him a long time to get over this afternoon's
experience. Why, just think, this is the first time I've seen him
since his accident."
Betty was trying to look sober, but her eyes were dancing with
merriment in spite of her efforts. Finally she gave a half-stifled
little laugh as she said, "I was dreadfully sorry for him, but he
was so funny sitting there at the top of the stairs and looking
so dignified and cross. I almost know he'd been doing his best to
get up without letting us hear him."
Betty's laugh was irresistible, and Ruth, who had been on the verge
of either laughter or tears ail day, couldn't help joining in.
"Oh, oh," laughed Betty, burying her face in a cushion. "Sh,
sh, he'll hear us," she gasped, as Ruth gave an answering peal of
laughter. "It's dreadful of us," said Betty at last, sitting up
and wiping her eyes, "to laugh at that poor boy. I'm just ashamed."
"So am I," gasped Ruth, "but you're really too funny when you laugh
and I couldn't help it."
Betty's eyes twinkled, and Ruth looked as though a fresh burst were
imminent when a pleasant voice said in the doorway:
"Well, I hear that my girl has stolen a march on me and got here
before I expected her. Your father's telegram has only just arrived,
my dear, and I am so sorry that I wasn't here to welcome you."
Ruth looked with eager curiosity at the tall, gracious woman who
came toward her. Then she put both hands into the welcoming ones
outstretched to meet her, and said with a little quiver in her
voice:
"Papa said that the moment I saw you I should feel at home, and I
do."