BAD NEWS AND GOOD
As she entered the house, Ruth's first glance was at the hall table,
but there was no important-looking yellow envelope to suggest that
her cablegram had arrived. Then her eye fell on the evening paper;
perhaps that might tell that the "Utopia" was safely in port.
She started to turn to the shipping news, but her gaze was caught
by a headline on the first page, and she stood rigid, holding the
paper in her shaking hands and trying to make sense of what she
was reading.
"The 'Utopia' storm-swept
A passenger injured."
That was what she seemed to read, and below it an inch of fine
type announced that during the severe storm which had hampered all
ocean travel for the last few days the "Utopia" had been swept by
heavy waves, and one of the passengers injured.
One of the passengers injured! That, of course, meant father!
Ruth read it time after time until the printed words swam before
her eyes, and she groped blindly for a chair so that she need not
fall. There she sat feeling that limbs and tongue were in chains,
and that she could neither move nor speak.
Katie, passing through the hall, was startled by the sight of the
rigid little figure in the big hall chair, and frightened out of
her wits when her sympathetic questions failed to bring forth any
response. She flew out into the kitchen to Ellen, who came hurrying
in with a face full of anxiety, and, kneeling before Ruth, took
both the cold hands in her own warm clasp.
"What is it, Miss Ruth, darlin'? Tell me," she said coaxingly. At
the friendly, human touch, Ruth's face relaxed. "Oh, Ellen," she
cried, clinging to her closely, "some one on papa's steamer has
been injured in the storm, and I know it must be papa."
Ellen looked dazed, and Ruth gave her the paper, pointing out the
paragraph as she did so.
"Sure, Miss Ruth, I can't read it quickly when my mind is so unaisy.
Just read it to me, honey."
So Ruth read it over for the twentieth time and was surprised to
find Ellen still looking cheerful as she finished.
"They don't give any names," said Ellen thoughtfully, "and wasn't
it you yourself was telling me that there was over a hundred cabin
passengers on that boat, to say nothing of the steerage?"
"Why, yes," answered Ruth, "but--"
"Well, then," interrupted Ellen, "there's at laste ninety-nine
chances out of a hundred that your blessed father never had a hair
of his head touched, and that's sayin' a good deal, darlin'."
"It is indeed, Miss Ruth," added Katie, who had been hovering around
anxious to do something to help.
Ruth began to look a bit comforted, and Ellen went on, "I do belave
from me soul, Miss Ruth, dear, that before you go to bed tonight
you'll have word from your father. At any rate, you can't bring
it any faster, nor help it one bit by worryin' about it. So now,
darlin', go upstairs and bathe your face and smooth your pretty
curls, and we'll put such a nice dinner on the table for you that
you can't help eatin'."
"It's a shame the poor little thing has got to eat her dinner all
alone," said Ellen, as she and Katie went back to the kitchen.
"I've a great mind--" But what she had a mind to do wasn't told,
for she vanished from the kitchen and Katie heard her climbing the
back stairs.
She went straight to Arthur's room, knocked, and hardly waiting for
an answer walked in. Arthur, who was absorbed in a book, looked up
surprised at her sudden entrance.
"It's only meself, Mr. Arthur," said Ellen, quite out of breath,
"and it's a great favor I've come up to ask of you. You see," she
went on hurriedly, "poor little Miss Ruth has got word in tonight's
paper that there's been an accident on her father's boat, and she's
that frightened and worried that she doesn't know what to do with
herself. It's too bad for her to have to eat her dinner with nothing
but her own sad thoughts for company, and I thought perhaps you--"
"Oh, no, Ellen, I can't," interrupted Arthur decidedly; "why, I
don't really know her yet."
"The more shame to you that you don't when she's been livin' in
your house for two weeks," answered Ellen, as much surprised at
her own boldness as Arthur was. "I've been livin' with your mother
ever since you was a wee baby, Mr. Arthur, and there ain't any one
outside your own family who loves you more than I do, but I must
say I'm disappointed in you."
Arthur looked at her in amazement, but Ellen went on without giving
him a chance to speak.
"Don't you know that life is just made up of knock-downs and get-ups,"
she said quaintly, "and whatever will you do if you stay down the
first time you're hit?"
Something in the homely little sermon touched a responsive chord
in Arthur as nothing else had done. "You're a good fellow, Ellen,"
he said affectionately, "and to prove that I think so I'm going
down to dinner tonight."
"Oh, Mr. Arthur," cried Ellen, almost on the point of tears, and
saving herself from it only by wringing her apron convulsively in
both hands. "It's the angel boy you are to take all the hard things
I said so sweetly. And it's that glad I am that you're going down,
for I don't belave Miss Ruth could eat a mite of dinner without
some man or other to encourage her about her father."
"I'll get down before she does if I can," said Arthur, reaching
for his crutches, "and see what the paper says about the steamer."
"That'a right, Mr. Arthur, do," answered Ellen, "and I'll hurry
down and see to the dinner." But she stopped on her way to knock
on Ruth's door and say coaxingly, "You won't change your mind, Miss
Ruth, dear; you'll surely come down."
Ruth, who was sitting in the big chair with the black kitten in
her arms, looked up soberly. "I don't believe I'll come down after
all, Ellen; I'm not a bit hungry, and I'm sure I couldn't eat a
mouthful."
"Oh, but Miss Ruth," cried Ellen in despair, "you'll spoil all my
plans if you don't. I've just persuaded Mr. Arthur to come down
so that you needn't be alone, and perhaps if he comes the once he
will every day. Just think how happy it will make his father and
mother!"
Ruth's forehead puckered into a frown. She felt much more like
sitting in front of her fire and thinking sad, lonely thoughts. But
it was such a small thing to do for Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, who had
been so kind to her, and it would mean so much to them if it did
help Arthur to conquer his dread of taking up the old life again.
Then, too, it would be a triumph to tell the girls that one member
of the society for the restoration of Arthur Hamilton to the world
had already begun the good work.
It was with a little smile that she looked up at Ellen, who
was anxiously waiting for her answer, and said, "I'll go down, of
course; I should be a selfish pig not to when you are all so good
to me."
"That's a darlin," cried Ellen much relieved. "And would you please
try to make him feel that it's a great favor to you for him to come
down? You know the men have to be managed a bit," she added slyly.
Ruth made a hasty dinner toilet by running a comb through her waving
locks, patting the big bow at the back of her head, and putting on
a fresh collar. Then she went slowly downstairs, wishing she knew
just what to say to Arthur.
To her relief he looked up from the paper he was reading and said
just as if they had been meeting every day for the past two weeks,
"I'm sure this report makes it seem worse than it is, Ruth. I don't
believe there is any real reason for you to worry about your father."
"Do you really think so? I suppose it's foolish to worry, but it's
pretty hard when he's so far away and I haven't heard for so long."
There was a suspicious quaver in her voice that made Arthur's
thoughts turn longingly to the safe shelter of his own room. What
if he should have a weeping girl on his hands! He turned cold at
the thought. "Oh, I'm sure you'll get some word from your father
before morning," he said with such anxious haste that quick-witted
Ruth guessed at once what he was dreading.
"You think I'm going to cry, but I'm not," she announced with
great dignity. "I hate to cry before people anyway, and I specially
wouldn't before a boy."
"Good for you! I wouldn't cry before a boy either," answered Arthur
with a twinkle in his eye, and then they both laughed and felt
better.
"It was good of you to come down to dinner tonight," said Ruth as
they began on their soup. "If I'd been alone I shouldn't have been
able to keep my mind off that awful newspaper heading for a minute."
"We can telephone in town after a while and find out what they know
at the steamship company's office. I can't help feeling, though,
that the newspaper report is very likely exaggerated."
Ruth felt much comforted by this masculine view of the situation,
and racked her brain to think up some interesting subjects for
conversation, for she wanted to show him that girls could be calm
and self-possessed even under the most trying circumstances.
"Are you fond of football?" she asked suddenly, when the long
silence was getting on her nerves, and she felt that she must say
something. Before he could answer, it flashed across her mind with
painful distinctness that it was at football that Arthur had been
injured. The color flashed into her cheeks, and she unconsciously
looked so appealingly at Arthur that he came to the rescue at once.
"Of course I am," he asserted stoutly. "It's a great old game, and
we've got some ripping good players in Glenloch. You ought to see
some of the Saturday games."
"I should love to," she responded with a fervor that showed her
relief, and then silence fell again. Ruth was in despair. With
athletics cut out, what could she talk about to a boy, particularly
when she was anxious to avoid any reference to anything which would
make her think of her father?
"I'm reading a great book now," said Arthur, whose thoughts for
the last few minutes had been much the same as Ruth's, and who felt
that if he didn't say something soon he never should.
"Oh, what is it? Tell me about it," said Ruth, with such touching
anxiety to help the conversation along that Arthur chuckled silently.
"It's one of Clark Russell's sea stories, and I've just left my
hero in such an exciting situation that I can hardly wait to see
how he is coming out."
It was Ruth's turn to feel amused now. "Too bad that you had to
stop to eat dinner with a mere girl, isn't it?" she said saucily.
Arthur laughed. "I was getting so hungry and thirsty out there in
mid-ocean with my hero, waiting for a sail to turn up, that I really
needed my dinner. Jiminy! it must be awful to have anything happen
to you on the ocean," he continued absent-mindedly; "you must feel
so awfully far away from every one and so helpless."
"Oh, please don't," cried Ruth with such real terror in her voice
that Arthur woke suddenly to a realization of what he'd been saying.
"Of all stupid numskulls!" he said impatiently. "Look here, Ruth,
you can cry if you want to after that, and I won't say a word. I
deserve some punishment for being such a forgetful idiot."
Ruth couldn't help laughing at his penitent expression. "I don't want
to cry any more than you want me to. And you're not a forgetful idiot
any more than I am. Let's call it square," she ended significantly.
"All right, and I'll stand up for girls from now on."
"Will you do me a favor?"
"Anything, fair lady, that you may see fit to ask," replied Arthur
dramatically.
"Then come down to your meals every day," demanded Ruth, inwardly
quaking, but outwardly calm and innocent looking.
Arthur looked as if he were about to protest, but changed his mind
and said firmly, "I never go back on my word, so I'll do it."
Fearing to spoil her victory by saying anything more, Ruth rose
from the table and walked into the hall, leaving Arthur to follow
more slowly. Just as she did so, the bell rang, a sharp, clear peal,
and Katie hurried to the door to return in a second with a yellow
envelope, and a small book for Ruth to sign.
Ruth's hands shook with excitement as she tried to use the stub of
a pencil, and she felt grateful when Arthur took book and all from
her saying gently, "You open your cablegram; I'll sign the book."
Ruth was actually pale as she tore open the envelope, but the color
came back to her cheeks as she read the one word written there. "It
says 'sound,'" she cried exultantly, "and papa said that one word
could mean everything I wanted it to mean. That he is well, and has
had a pleasant voyage, and has arrived safely. Oh, I am so happy.
It's good news! The best of news, Ellen," she added, as the good
soul's beaming face appeared in the doorway. "Oh, I can't keep
still," and catching Ellen around her massive waist, Ruth almost
whirled her off her feet in a wild dance of joy.
"Miss Ruth, Miss Ruth, darlin', behave yourself," protested Ellen,
who like other unwieldy objects went on from sheer momentum when
once started. "How can you expect a fat old thing like me to dance?"
"Oh, Ellen, that did me heaps of good," and Ruth sank panting into
a chair, while Arthur laughed as he had never expected to laugh
again, and Ellen tried to look cross, but failed in the attempt.
There was a quick rattle of a key in the lock, and the door opened
suddenly to admit Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton. Their surprise as they
surveyed the jolly group was funny to see, and Ruth and Arthur went
off into a fresh fit of mirth, while Ellen slipped shamefacedly
into the kitchen.
"We gave up our dinner party, and came home," said Mrs. Hamilton,
"because we were afraid that Ruth would be worried about--" She
stopped suddenly, realizing too late that there was no need of
telling Ruth why she should be worried, since evidently she didn't
know.
"Oh, I am dreadfully--I mean I was," cried Ruth incoherently, "and
I don't know what I should have done if Ellen hadn't comforted me,
and Arthur hadn't come down to dinner. But it's all right now, for
my cablegram says 'sound,' and that means everything good."
"So it does, so it does, little girl," said Mr. Hamilton, much
relieved. "It makes you as happy as it makes me feel to see this
tall boy of mine down here. Got back to us for keeps now, Arthur?"
he asked, as he put his arm around his son's shoulder with a smile
that went straight to the boy's heart.
"Yes, sir, I think so," mumbled Arthur, who found it hard to live
up to his standard of manliness, as he felt the quick clasp of his
mother's hand and saw the look in her eyes.
For a moment the three stood there, a little world in themselves.
Then Mrs. Hamilton stretched out a welcoming hand to Ruth.
"You belong too, little daughter," she said lovingly. "We're going
to have good times together, we four. You shall see."