THE AERIAL TRAMWAY
He might have gone right under the wheels of the backing freight
train--that queer looking old gentleman--umbrella and all! Ruth Kenway
dragged him back, and the train rumbled past them so near that the
umbrella scraped along the sides of the box-cars.
"What under the sun's the matter with you, girl?" snapped the old man.
He turned on her so angrily, and furled the huge umbrella with such
emphasis, that Ruth was quite startled, although she had thought that
this time she would be prepared for any outbreak of irritation or
displeasure on his part. She backed away from him, and as other people
who had seen the incident came crowding about, the girl slipped away and
crossed the tracks hurriedly when the freight train had gone by.
But the one-armed flagman and other railroad employees let the old
gentleman understand beyond peradventure that he had barely escaped a
dreadful accident. He had been about to step directly in the path of the
backing freight train.
"My, my, my!" he exclaimed at last, "'tisn't possible!"
"It just is possible!" retorted the one-armed flagman. "One minute more
and you'd've been ground to powder like as not if it hadn't been for
that there girl. Some spunk, she's got."
"Some quick thinkin' she done!" exclaimed another of the employees. "Man
alive, you wouldn't have no head on your shoulders right now if she
hadn't knowed what to do at once and done it instanter. No siree!"
"My! my! my!" said the old gentleman again. "That girl then saved my
life! Possibly saved me from a worse fate--to live on through the years
maimed and mutilated."
Just then the train for which the old gentleman was waiting came in
sight and soon drew up at the Milton station.
"Then I really owe that girl an apology," he went on. "Who is she? Does
she live here!" he asked one of the bystanders.
"Sure she lives here."
"Well, I can't stop to-day. I've got to hurry. But I shall look her up
the next time I come this way. Oh, yes indeed, I shall look her up! For
a girl she certainly showed good sense."
"I don't know whether she did or not," scoffed the man to whom he spoke,
but under his breath. "You don't look as though you were such a lot of
use in the world, if you ask me. I bet you're a Tartar!"
Ruth Kenway, however, did not expect to be thanked. The old gentleman
with the green umbrella passed out of her mind for the time being
before she reached home. And there she found the assembled young folks
in the throes of a discussion regarding Tess and Sammy's proposed aerial
tramway.
"_Do_ call it 'tramway,'" begged Agnes. "It sounds so awfully English,
don't you know!"
"It sounds so awfully foolish, don't you know," said Neale O'Neil, who
had come over the fence from Mr. Con Murphy's yard and sat on the stoop
regaling himself upon a summer apple he had picked on his way. "Have a
summer sweetnin', Ag?"
"I do wish you would call her by her right name, Neale," said Ruth,
sharply, for she did not approve of Neale's slang.
"Dear me! 'What's in a name?' to quote the Immortal Bard," drawled the
youth.
"A good deal sometimes," chuckled Agnes, who did not much mind having
her name shortened. "Wait till I look up in my scrap book the name of
that special cheese which is made by the Swiss for use in Passion Play
week. It's got all the letters of the alphabet in it _twice_."
"Never mind looking it up," advised Ruth, quickly.
"No," said Neale. "We'll take your word for there being something in it.
An odoriferous odor, I bet, if it's like most of those fancy cheeses."
"Why," said Tess, reprovingly, "I thought we were talking about my
airship line."
"'Back to the mines, men! there'll be no strike to-day!'" quoted Agnes.
"It's up to you, Neale. Sammy and Tess have originated the idea. All you
have to do is to find the materials and do the work."
"If Ruth says we may," added Tess, without at all appreciating her
sister's sarcasm.
"Why, there's no harm, I suppose. A basket to pull across the street?
Does your mother say you may, Sammy?"
"Oh, yes, Ruth," declared the boy. "I just ran and asked her."
"What did she say?"
"We-ell," Sammy admitted slowly, "she was busy cutting out something on
the dining-room table and her mouth was full of pins. I had to ask her
two or three times before she seemed to hear me."
"And then what did she say?" insisted Ruth, with suspicion, knowing both
Sammy and his mother pretty well.
"Why, she said: 'If you will only go out and stop bothering me for an
hour I don't care _what_ you do.' So, ain't that saying I can?" demanded
Sammy.
"I should say she had given you _carte blanche_," chuckled Neale, while
the older Corner House girls laughed.
"I think you may go as far as to get the wire, pulleys, and other things
needed," Ruth said. "I will ask Sammy's mother myself when she is not
so strenuously engaged."
Dot listened to this and gazed after the departing older sister in
something like awe.
"What is it, Dottums?" asked Agnes, chucking the little fairy-like child
under her soft chin.
"Oh, our Ruth does talk so beautifully," sighed the smallest Corner
House girl. "What does 'strain--strain-u-ous-ly' mean, Aggie?"
"Exactly that," laughed her sister. "Mrs. Pinkney certainly was working
under a 'strain.' You have hit the meaning of 'strenuously' better even
than Mr. Dick."
"Who is Mr. Dick?" demanded Dot, the unappeasable.
"The man who knows everything," said Neale, throwing away the core of
his apple and strolling to the gate on his way to the hardware store to
purchase the materials for the Aeriel tramway.
"The dictionary, goosey," said Tess in explanation to Dot. "Don't you
know yet what they mean when they are joking us?"
"I only wanted to _know_," said Dot rather grieved.
"Never mind," said Sammy, being left alone with the two smaller girls.
"Let 'em laugh. We won't get mad at 'em till that wire's up and the car
is running all right."
Oh, Sammy Pinkney was a practical lad.
Dot, unable long to keep any exciting happening or interest to herself,
was disseminating the news of the proposed "airship line" throughout the
Corner House household. Uncle Rufus, the brown black-man, who was
working just then in the garden, was vastly astonished.
"Ma 'Lantic Ocean!" he gasped. "What will dese yere chillun be doin'
next, I want to know! Puttin' up a trolley line, is they, fo' airships?
Who ever heard de like?"
"Oh, air-re-ro-planes!" said Dot, having heard a new word and rather
liking the rolling syllables of it. "Air-re-ro-planes are getting very
common, so Aggie says. There is going to be one at the County Fair. Why,
people will be riding in them just like trolley cars, pretty soon!"
"Ma goodness! No!" ejaculated the old man. "I don't want to wake up on
dat day when dat dere comes to pass. Lookut, chile! If de airships was a
steamin' around over our haids, we'd nebber be sure of our lives. Why,
dey'd be throwin' over ashes, and de cooks would be emptyin' garbage
pails over de rails like dey does aboard steamships. Wouldn't be no
sharks dere to gobble down de leavin's--no, ma'am! On'y birds. And folks
aboard would be droppin' t'ings out'n de airship. An' w'en a man fell
overboard--ma mercy, chile! he'd come down plump on you' haid, mebbe!
No, ma'am, dey won't never 'low it," and the old negro shook his head
seriously.
These perfectly good objections to the practicability of airship flying
impressed the smallest Corner House girl deeply. She intended to return
to talk to Sammy and Tess about it; but on her way, as she came along
the path next to the Willow Street fence, she suddenly saw Sammy's
bandy-legged bulldog charging across the street, probably in search of
his young master. The dog had slipped his chain in some way and being a
ferocious-looking beast at best, it was no wonder that pedestrians gave
him a wide berth.
Suddenly Dot, inside the fence, heard a stifled cry of fear outside the
fence. Looking up from her Alice-doll she saw a woman clinging to the
fence pickets as though she contemplated climbing the barrier to escape
the dog; and the dog was standing before her wagging his stump of a tail
slightly and showing two formidable rows of teeth while he "laughed" at
her perturbation.
"Oh, don't be afraid of Sammy's dog," advised Dot. "He won't bite you."
"He won't bite?" demanded the woman, who was evidently of a nervous
disposition. "What's he got all those teeth for? He doesn't bite?"
"Oh--oh, no, ma'am. He only nibbles."
Then she called the dog and the woman went on, relieved. But when her
fright was past she probably confessed to herself that the smallest
Corner House girl certainly had originality of ideas.
Dot would not let the bulldog into the yard, for he would have at once
sought out Billy Bumps, the goat, to tease him. He and Billy were sworn
and deadly enemies.
Sammy and Tess had disappeared. So, still feeling the necessity for
discussing the airship matter with somebody, Dot went upstairs to Aunt
Sarah's room.
Aunt Sarah Maltby was forever engaged in sewing or in fancy work; and,
to tell the truth, Dot was not much interested in needlework. She was
often seized upon by Aunt Sarah, however, and made to sit down to sew
patchwork.
"Every little girl, when I was a little girl, had to learn to use her
needle," declared the spinster. "When I was your age, Dorothy Kenway, I
had pieced half a block bedquilt and was learning to do
feather-stitching."
"Yes ma'am," said Dot, politely. "It must have been very int'resting."
But she did not care for such amusement herself. On this occasion,
before she could even broach the airship matter, Aunt Sarah seized upon
a fault that Dot had not even noticed before.
"Look here!" exclaimed Aunt Sarah. "What have you done to your
stocking?"
"I--I--I'm wearing it," confessed Dot, startled, but looking down at her
neat little shins in their white hose.
"Wearing them! You're wearing them _out_!" ejaculated Aunt Sarah,
pointing to a hole that Dot could not possibly see, for it was behind
her. "And those stockings were put on fresh this afternoon."
"Yes, ma'am," admitted Dot, for it was of no use to argue with Aunt
Sarah.
"When I was your age," (a favorite expression of Aunt Sarah's) "I darned
my own stockings. And you don't even know what needles are for!"
"Oh, yes I do, please, Auntie. They're to make the talking machine
play!" declared Dot, frightened by Aunt Sarah's manner into most unusual
perversity. She was usually a gentle, obedient child.
Aunt Sarah was in no mood to listen to anything about airships after
that; and Dot took her first lesson in darning, there and then. The old
lady and the little girl came down to dinner that evening in a rather
sober frame of mind, for the occasion had been wearing upon both of
them.
The evening meal at the old Corner House was usually, however, a
cheering event. Mrs. MacCall held sway at one end of the long table in
the huge dining-room, while Aunt Sarah sat at the foot. The girls held
places on either side, and if they had guests the latter were scattered
between the Corner House girls and made to feel at home.
The table here was, in the truest sense, an "extension table." Uncle
Rufus who, in a bobtail coat, white vest and spats, acted as butler,
lengthened the table or shortened it, according to the number to be
served.
Damask and bright silver and glass made the board attractive. The
old-fashioned furniture as well as the table service were the special
care of the old negro. His pride and his delight were in the years he
had served at the old Stower table.
When the family was alone it is a fact that Uncle Rufus considered
himself privileged to join in the children's conversation. And this made
the meal no less enjoyable, for Uncle Rufus added nothing, if he did not
add joy, to the occasion.
"I never lets ma feelin's flow, as some folks does," he chanced to
observe. "Tears don't wash a body's face nowhar's near as good as soap
an' watah--no, ma'am!
"Now, dere's ma daughter, Pechunia: She'd ruther cry dan eat and at
_dat_ you kin see by her size she don't starb herself. She suttenly does
love to attend fun'rals an' sech social gadderin's whar dey kin sit down
an' tell 'bout haw good de remains was 'fore de Grim Reaper come an'
reaped 'em."
Uncle Rufus sniffed. "Dat foolish brack woman! She b'longs right now to
so many buryin' sassieties dat if she done gits buried by all of 'em
when she dies, 'twill take more'n _one_ day to hol' her fun'ral, an'
dat's a fac'!
"Ya-as! Pechunia does love to mo'n. She'd a made a moughty good wife fo'
Jeremiah. 'Twas so when her mammy died. I done suffered as much as any
widder-man ought to t'rough her mammy dyin'. Ya-as, ma'am. But I tell
you what 'tis, honey; 'tain't no use to keep worritin' and worritin'
about anyt'ing dat's done an' gone--not fo'ever.
"Her mammy was dead, an' if I'd been let, ma mind would ha' kinda
chirked up a bit after a w'ile. But dat brack gal would jes' as soon
break down right in de middle of dinner--ef she'd et 'nuff herse'f--an'
bust out sobbin' 'bout her mammy. It got so I was prospectin' 'round fo'
sumpin to t'row at her haid! I sure was.
"An' de fussin', and de mo'nin' dresses and bunnits, an' de circus-shows
she had to hab to show she was properly sorry 'cause her mammy had gone.
Ma soul!"
Suddenly Uncle Rufus began to chuckle his mellow chuckle and they knew
the point of his story was at hand.
"She done want to write to all de rel'tives an' friends scattered about
de fo'ty p'ints of the compass 'bout her mammy's bein' tuk away. Dis was
a mighty fur time back, chillen; but Pechunia was jes as foolish den as
she is now."
But Uncle Rufus by no means monopolized the conversation at dinner that
evening. Tess was so full of the aerial tramway that she would have
built it and rebuilt it forty times, so Agnes said, if they had not
begged her to stop. Dot was too depressed to think of much but darning.
Ruth, however, had an amusing tale to tell.
She described the queer looking old gentleman with the green umbrella
and told quite energetically of the adventure at the railroad crossing.
"My dear!" exclaimed Mrs. MacCall, "you might have been hurt yourself.
What a start I'd have had had I seen you. And no man would be worth your
getting hurt, ma lassie."
"Quite right," croaked Aunt Sarah from the other end of the table. Her
opinion of men in general coincided with Mrs. MacCall's remark. The old
Corner House was a good deal of an Adamless Eden. But now Agnes
suggested something that was quite sure to break up the usual order of
the household arrangements.
"If you and Aunt Sarah dislike men so," she asked Mrs. MacCall,
laughing, "what are you going to do when Cecile Shepard and her brother
come? When will they arrive, Ruth!"
"On Monday, I expect," said the older sister. "But I am sure Aunt Sarah
won't mind Luke Shepard any more than she does Neale--or Sammy."
"Who says I don't mind that Neale O'Neil?" snapped the old woman. "All
boys are a nuisance. And this Shepard is nothing more than a boy, is
he?"
"Oh, he's quite grown up," said Agnes. "He's entering his junior year at
college."
"And he owns a tin-peddler's wagon," added Dot, as though that fact
surely added to Luke Shepard's dignity and importance.
"Hoh!" sniffed Aunt Sarah, "you girls do mix up with the strangest
people! I never see your beat! A tin peddler and his sister."
"But Mrs. Heard, who went with us on our motor trip, liked and approved
of the Shepards," Ruth said quietly. "I think they are very plucky,
too--orphans, with a very small income, and helping to pay for their
education by traveling with a peddler's outfit in summer and letting the
team and route out to another peddler during the winter. And Cecile is
lovely."
"How about Luke?" asked Agnes slyly, and had the satisfaction of seeing
her older sister blush.
Just then there was a crash on the side porch and in a moment Neale's
glowing face was thrust through the pantry door.
"Eating, folks? I'll have to hustle or Mr. Con Murphy will eat my share
and his own, too. There! I've brought all the hardware for that aerial
tramway. It's on the porch. Let Tom Jonah watch it to-night, and we'll
rig it in the morning."