Of course there was no real reason why life at the old Corner House
should not flow quite as placidly with Ruth away as when the elder
sister was at home. It was a fact, however, that things seemed to begin
to go wrong almost at once.
Having written the notice advertising the silver bracelet as though it
had been found by chance, Agnes made Neale run downtown again at once
with it so as to be sure the advertisement would be inserted in the next
morning's _Post_.
As the automobile had not been put into the garage after the return from
taking Ruth to the station, Neale used it on this errand, and on his way
back there was a blowout. Of course if Ruth had been at home she could
scarcely have averted this misfortune. However, had she been at home the
advertisement regarding the bracelet might not have been written at all.
Meanwhile, Mrs. McCall's preserve jars did not seal well, and the next
day the work had to be done all over again. Linda cut her finger "to the
bone," as she gloomily announced. And Uncle Rufus lost a silver dollar
somewhere in the grass while he was mowing the lawn.
"An' dollars is as scarce wid me as dem hen's teef dey talks about,"
said the old darkey. "An' I never yet did see a hen wid teef--an' Ah
reckon I've seen a million of 'em."
"Oh-oo!" murmured Dot Kenway. "A million hens, Unc' Rufus? _Is_ there
that many?"
"He, he!" chuckled the old man. "Ain't that the beatenes' chile dat ever
was? Always a-questionin' an' a-questionin'. Yo' can't git by wid any
sprodigious statement when she is around--no, suh!"
Nor could such an expression as "sprodigious" go unchallenged with Dot
on the scene--no, indeed! A big word in any case attracted Miss Dorothy.
"What does that mean, Unc' Rufus?" she promptly demanded. "Is--is
'sprodigious' a dictionary word, or just one of your made-up words?"
"Go 'long chile!" chuckled the old man. "Can't Uncle Rufus make up words
just as good as any dictionary-man? If I knows what Ah wants to say, Ah
says it, ne'er mind de dictionary!"
"That's all very well, Unc' Rufus," Tess put in. "But Ruthie only wants
us to use language that you find in books. So I guess you'd better not
take that one from Uncle Rufus, Dottie."
"Howcome Missy Ruth so pertic'lar?" grumbled the old man. "Yo' little
gals is gettin' too much l'arnin'--suah is! But none of hit don't find de
ol' man his dollar."
At this complaint Tess and Dot went to work immediately to hunt for the
missing dollar. It was while they were searching along the hedgerow next
to the Creamers' premises that the little girls got into their memorable
argument with Mabel Creamer about the lobster--an argument, which, being
overheard by Agnes, was reported to the family with much hilarity.
Mabel, an energetic and sharp-tongued child, and Bubby, her little
brother, were playing in their yard. That is, Bubby was playing while
Mabel nagged and thwarted him in almost everything he wanted to do.
"Now, don't stoop over like that, Bubby. Your face gets all red like a
lobster does. Maybe you'll turn into one."
"I _ain't_ a lobs'er," shouted Bubby.
"You will be one if you get red like that," repeated his sister in a
most aggravating way.
"I won't be a lobs'er!" wailed Bubby.
"Of course you won't be a lobster, Bubby," spoke up Tess from across the
hedge. "You're just a boy."
"Course I's a boy," declared Bubby stoutly, sensing that Tess Kenway's
assurance was half a criticism. "I don't want to be a lobs'er--nor a
dirl, so there!"
"Oh-oo!" gasped Dot.
"You will be a lobster and turn all red if you are a bad boy," declared
Mabel, who was always in a bad temper when she was made to mind Bubby.
"Why, Mabel," murmured Dot, who knew a thing or two about lobsters
herself, "you wouldn't boil Bubby, would you?"
"Don't have to boil 'em to make 'em turn red," declared Mabel, referring
to the lobster, not the boy. "My father brought home live lobsters once
and the big one got out of the basket on to the kitchen floor."
"Oh, my!" exclaimed the interested Dot. "What happened?"
With her imagination thus spurred by appreciation, Mabel pursued the
fancy: "And there were three little ones in the basket, and that old,
big lobster tried to make them get out on the floor too. And when they
wouldn't, what do you think?"
"I don't know," breathed Dot.
"Why, he got so mad at them that he turned red all over. I saw him--"
"Why, Mabel Creamer!" interrupted Tess, unable to listen further to such
a flight of fancy without registering a protest. "That can't be so--you
know it can't."
"I'd like to know why it can't be so?" demanded Mabel.
"'Cause lobsters only turn red when they are boiled. They are all green
when they are alive."
"How do you know so much, Tess Kenway?" cried Mabel. "These are my
lobsters and I'll have them turn blue if I want to--so there!"
There seemed to be no room for further argument. Besides, Mabel grabbed
Bubby by the hand and dragged him away from the hedge.
"My!" murmured Dot, "Mabel has _such_ a 'magination. And maybe that
lobster did get mad, Tess. We don't know."
"She never had a live lobster in her family," declared Tess, quite
emphatically. "You know very well, Dot Kenway, that Mr. Creamer wouldn't
bring home such a thing as a live lobster, when there are little
children in his house."
"M--mm--I guess that's so," agreed Dot. "A live lobster would be worse
than Sammy Pinkney's bulldog."
Thus reminded of the absent Sammy the two smaller Corner House girls
postponed any further search for Uncle Rufus's dollar and went across
the street to learn if any news had been gained of their runaway
playmate. Mrs. Pinkney was still despairing. She had imagined already a
score of misfortunes that might have befallen her absent son, ranging
from his eating of green apples to being run over by an automobile.
"But, Mrs. Pinkney!" burst forth Tess at last, "if Sammy has run away to
sea to be a pirate, there won't be any green apples for him to eat--and
no automobiles."
"Oh, you can never tell what trouble Sammy Pinkney will manage to get
into," moaned his mother. "I can only expect the very worst."
"Well," Dot remarked with a sigh, as she and Tess trudged home to
supper, "I'm glad there is only one boy in _my_ family. My boy doll,
Nosmo King Kenway, will probably be a source of great anxiety when he is
older."
"I wouldn't worry about that," Tess told her placidly. "If he is very
bad you can send him to the reform school."
"Oh--oo!" gasped Dot, all her maternal instincts aroused at such a
suggestion. "That would be awful."
"I don't know. They do send boys to the reform school. Jimmy Mulligan,
whose mother lives in that little house on Willow Wythe, is in the
reform school because he wouldn't mind his mother."
"But they don't send Sammy there," urged Dot.
"No--o. Of course," admitted the really tender-hearted Tess, "we know
Sammy isn't really naughty. He is only silly to run away every once in a
while."
There was much bustle inside the old Corner House that evening. Because
they really missed Ruth so much, her sisters invented divers occupations
to fill the hours until bedtime. Tess and Dot, for instance, had never
cut out so many paper-dolls in all their lives.
Another telegram had arrived from Cecile Shepard (sent, of course,
before Ruth had reached Oakhurst), stating that she had been allowed to
see her brother and that, although he could not be immediately moved, he
was improving and was absolutely in no danger.
"If Ruthie had only waited to get _this_ message," complained Agnes,
"she would not have gone up there to the mountains at all. And just see,
Neale, how right that Gypsy girl was. There was news on the way that
changed the whole aspect of affairs. She was quite wonderful, _I_
think."
By this time Neale saw that it was better not to try to ridicule Agnes'
budding belief in fortune telling. "Less said, the soonest mended," was
his wise opinion.
"I like Cecile Shepard," Agnes went on to say, "and always shall; but I
don't think she has shown much sense about her brother's illness.
Scaring everybody to death, and sending telegrams like a patch-work
quilt!"
"Maybe Ruth will come right home again when she finds Luke is all
right," said Tess hopefully. "Dear, me! aren't boys a lot of trouble?"
"Sammy and Luke are," agreed Dot.
"All but Neale," said the loyal Agnes, her boy chum having departed. "I
don't see what this family would do without Neale O'Neil."
In the morning the older sister's absence seemed to make quite as great
a gap in the household of the old Corner House as at night. But Neale
rushed in early with the morning paper to show Agnes their advertisement
in print. Under the "Lost and Found" heading appeared the following:
"FOUND:--Silver bracelet, antique design. Owner can regain it by
proving property and paying for this advertisement. Apply Kenway,
Willow and Main Streets."
"It sounds quite dignified," decided Agnes admiringly. "I guess Ruth
would approve."
"Crickey!" ejaculated Neale O'Neil, "this is _one_ thing Ruth is not
bossing. We did this off our own bat, Aggie."
"Just the same," ruminated Agnes, "I wonder what Mr. Howbridge will
say if he reads it?"
"I am glad," said Neale with gratitude, "that my father doesn't
interfere with what I do. And I haven't any guardian, unless it is
dear old Con Murphy. Folks let me pretty much alone."
"If they didn't," said Agnes saucily, "I suppose you would run away as
you did from the circus."
"No," laughed her chum. "One runaway in the neighborhood is enough.
Mr. Pinkney has been up half the night, he tells me, telephoning and
sending telegrams. He has about made up his mind that Sammy hasn't
gone in the direction of Pleasant Cove, after all."
"We ought to help hunt for Sammy," cried Agnes eagerly. "Let us take
Mrs. Pinkney in the auto, Neale, and search for that little rascal."
"No. She will not leave the house. She wants to greet Sammy when he
comes back--no matter whether it is day or night," chuckled Neale. "But
Mr. Pinkney is going to get away from the office this afternoon, and
we'll take him. He is afraid his wife will be really ill."
"Poor woman!"
"She cannot be contented to sit down and wait for Sammy to turn up--as
he always does."
"You mean, he always gets turned up," giggled Agnes. "Somebody is sure
to find him."
"Well, then, it might as well be us," agreed Neale. "I'll tune up the
engine, and see that the car is all right. We should be able to go
over a lot of these roads in an afternoon. Sammy could not have got
very far from Milton in two days, or less."