LOTS OF FUN
There was one matter which had troubled Ruth, and her friends, as well,
before they left Milton and the old Corner House. Even her illness could
not entirely turn Ruth’s mind from the sad case of the Pendletons.
While she had been so ill she could not visit the little family on Plane
Street which seemed to have been so sorely stricken. But she knew that
Mr. Pendleton had got up and was about, after a fortnight or so, and
that Mr. Howbridge had found him a job. Dr. Forsyth told Ruth that with
proper care the man would suffer no serious results from his fall in the
chestnut woods.
At Christmas the family, especially the three children, was lavishly
remembered by the Kenways. Margaret Ortwell Pendleton did not go to the
same school as Tess and Dot, so the little Corner House girls did not
see much of her, but they heard about the Pendleton children—especially
of “Shot” Pendleton—quite frequently through Sammy. Sammy was a rover,
and he kept in touch with the acquaintances which he made to a
remarkable degree.
But it was through her guardian that Ruth Kenway learned more about
Oscar Pendleton and his troubles and learned what was going on in the
investigation into the robbery at the warehouse of Kolbeck & Roods. Mr.
Howbridge had become interested in the case.
“My clerk has not really raked up anything satisfactory about that
affair,” the lawyer reflected, as he sat with Ruth on the deck of the
_Horridole_ the second day out from port. “He has got Pendleton’s story
from him and—my clerk, I mean—believes the man is innocent. It is not a
mere opinion; he gains his judgments through logical reflection.
“But there is no evidence to the contrary that would be accepted by any
court. You see, Kolbeck and Roods are not sure enough themselves to have
Pendleton arrested. That makes it very bad——”
“Why, Guardy! I think that makes it very good. Consider how poor Mrs.
Pendleton would feel if her husband was taken off to jail.”
“You don’t see very far, Ruth,” said the lawyer. “If he was arrested
we’d bail him out, hurry the trial, and make Kolbeck and Roods try to
prove their allegation. They couldn’t do so and the man would be
discharged and his name practically cleared. We have no ‘Scotch
verdicts’ in America.”
“What is a Scotch verdict, Guardian?”
“It is a custom in some courts of that country, when guilt is not
assured, to render a verdict of ‘not proven’; but it does not clear the
victim’s reputation. It is neither guilt nor acquittal. But if Kolbeck
and Roods could not bring forward convincing proof of Oscar Pendleton’s
guilt, he would be acquitted.”
“Oh! And can’t your clerk dig up any facts on the other side—that Mr.
Pendleton could not have committed the robbery?”
“That is the job I have left him to do,” said Mr. Howbridge. “He tells
me the man who saved Pendleton from arrest in the first place is Israel
Stumpf.”
“‘Israel Stumpf’? Let me see—haven’t I heard that name before?”
“Perhaps. I understand he is Mr. Kolbeck’s stepson.”
“That is it!” cried Ruth. “Miss Titus spoke of him. And—and somehow I
drew from what she said that Israel Stumpf was not a friend to Mr.
Pendleton.”
“My clerk says he is the boy who saved Pendleton from immediate arrest.”
“_Saved_ him?” quoted Ruth. “Don’t you mean that he balked the intention
of the firm to arrest the suspect and have the matter cleared up at
once?”
“You split hairs like any lawyer,” laughed Mr. Howbridge. Yet he stared
at the girl thoughtfully for a long minute. Then: “I see your point. I
am going to wireless my office a message. Perhaps a closer examination
into the life and works of Israel Stumpf might prove important.”
The little folks were, of course, immensely interested in the sending of
that message, although they did not know its purport. Tess and Dot
wandered about the decks of the steamship in their furs, Dot with the
Alice-doll hugged close to her breast, and stared at everything they saw
new; and, in Dot’s case at least, asked innumerable questions.
When the _Horridole_ got out into the Gulf Stream where the air and sea
were both warmer—much warmer than at Boston—the two little girls began
to enjoy themselves enormously. They did not have to bundle up so much
and the sea-air was delightful.
Its effect upon Ruth and Agnes was equally efficacious. They soon
stopped the “Hark, from the tomb a mournful sound!” as Neale had called
their separate coughs. Ruth was soon able to walk about. Already Agnes,
leaning on Neale’s arm at first, paced the upper deck, around and
around, “to get an appetite,” she said.
“Don’t do it, Aggie,” begged Neale O’Neil, after watching her at dinner
the second day. “Remember what devastation you are causing. This is a
rich steamship line; but profits won’t stand many such passengers as you
are proving to be.”
“I know it!” cried his friend delightedly. “One would never think I had
been eating at home, but would believe I had been saving up for this
occasion. Do ask the steward for some more tongue, Neale. I’m ashamed
to.”
“‘Every part strengthens a part,’” said Neale, quoting Mrs. MacCall. “I
don’t know about that tongue, Aggie. You weren’t behind the door when
they were giving tongues out.”
“Is that so!” and she tossed her head.
“But, still,” he added, his eyes twinkling, “this is the tongue that
never gossiped, so perhaps it won’t hurt you to have a little more,” and
he summoned the waiter.
“I like your impudence!” Agnes exclaimed. “Do you think I am in training
to occupy Miss Titus’ exalted position when I get to be her age?”
“Don’t know. Can’t tell. You are getting kind of dried up and ancient,
Aggie. I’m worried about you,” teased the boy.
“I’m not worried about you,” said she, tossing her head again. “I know
just how you are going to turn out, Neale O’Neil.”
“How?” he inquired curiously.
“Bad.”
“I’m bound to be a bad man, am I?”
“You are. You are a tease, and you’re careless, and you don’t care what
happens when you are out for fun, and you are reckless with your money,
and—and——”
“So far,” interposed Ruth who had heard this, and she said it rather
soberly, “you have related your own shortcomings to a nicety, Agnes.
There is little use in the pot calling the kettle black.”
“Well! I declare! Isn’t it the result of my association with this boy
that my own character is so bad?” Agnes demanded.
“You are both incorrigible,” declared Ruth, and thereafter paid no
attention to them.
Agnes was feeling so much better by this time that she was ready for any
gayety and almost any stroke of mischief. She was about with Neale
O’Neil all the time; and usually the little ones were in their company.
So that Mr. Howbridge had not to fret himself in the least regarding
Tess and Dot.
Ruth and Luke were together most of the time, for aboard ship Professor
Keeps did not need his young assistant. Ruth thought the bald-headed
professor with the very pronounced near-sighted squint, rather an
interesting man. He was still in the thirties; but he was so dry of
speech and look that it was difficult not to think of him as much older.
He was interesting to talk with—or, rather, to listen to. Luke said what
Professor Keeps did not know about botany, the flowers of the field
themselves had forgotten!
“You speak almost as uproariously as Neale does,” said Ruth, smiling. “I
never knew you to be so hilarious before, Luke—not since I have known
you.”
“Why shouldn’t I be light-hearted?” he returned, smiling. “This is my
first regular job. Of course, I worked at that hotel for part of last
summer, and so showed Neighbor that I really mean to be self-supporting
just as soon as I can be. But being a hotel clerk did not rise out of my
college work.
“This is something different. Neighbor is just as pleased as Cecile and
Aunt Lorena. I don’t suppose I shall be a professor of botany; but this
experience will help, and while I am helping Professor Keeps I’ll be
getting full credit in my regular course. Shan’t have much tutoring to
do to catch up.”
“It is certainly nice that you can be with us,” sighed Ruth happily. “I
wish Cecile might have come.”
“Aunt Lorena needs her. And whisper! I believe Cecile has a new interest
near home.”
“No!” ejaculated Ruth, her eyes shining.
“Yes, ma’am! Cecile has a ‘gemplum friend.’ And he’s an all right
fellow—‘Gene Barrows. He has a garage, and a business, and red hair. And
he is going to make a good thing of all three,” chuckled Luke.
Agnes, as she regained her strength, regained her volubility and charm
as well. She was a very pretty girl, and in spite of her youth she
always attracted attention from both young and old. She was especially
popular with the men and boys of the passenger list.
She showed preference for none of them, however, save Neale O’Neil, yet
some of the girls of her own age aboard began, before long, to consider
that the blond Kenway girl gathered altogether too many of the boys
about her. The boys gathered about Neale, too, but the envious ones
would not see that. In fact, having set their futile traps for Neale and
failed to snare him, they were all the angrier with helpless Agnes.
“Who is that girl who stares at me so hard whenever she passes, Neale?”
Agnes asked languidly, as she lolled in her steamer chair on the third
morning out of Boston. “Have I seen her somewhere before, or do I owe
her money?”
“Hush, my child!” urged Neale, grinning. “You know not of whom you speak
in so careless a manner.”
“Is she somebody?” asked Agnes, with increased interest.
“She is. Her father is one of the high muck-a-mucks of the Black Pennant
Line—owns oodles of stock. And she is from the coldest stratum of Back
Bay society—pos-i-tive-ly.”
[Illustration: “Who is that girl who stares at me so hard whenever she
passes?”, Agnes asked.]
“Really, Neale?” demanded Agnes. “The real people? What’s her name?”
“Nalbro Hastings.”
“My goodness me! Not those Hastings?” exclaimed Agnes, but lowering her
voice and sitting up to look after the girl in question.
“She is the real goods,” said the slangy Neale, his eyes twinkling in
amusement over Agnes’ excitement. “John Y. Hastings is her male
par-y-ent.”
“Hush!” whispered Agnes. “She is going to turn around.”
“Then I bet the earth stops whirling on its axis, and the moon follows
Miss Hastings’ course. She is going to play hob with the next tide.”
“Do be still!” commanded Agnes, worriedly. “I had no idea she was Miss
Hastings. And how I looked at her!”
Neale coughed behind his hand. “You looked at her just now as though you
felt yourself to be quite as good as she is. Have you had a change of
heart, Aggie?”
“Do behave!” commanded Agnes again, and now she was really angry. “I had
no idea! If she gives me another chance——”
“Help! Help!” crowed Neale. “Ath-thith-tance, pleathe!”
“Now, don’t be common, Neale O’Neil!” hissed Agnes angrily, prettier
than usual when her cheeks flamed so.
She smiled very winningly and looked straight into Nalbro Hastings’ eyes
as the latter came down the deck again. The daughter of the Back Bay
millionaire was not unattractive herself. And she was dressed in the
very best of taste. But she was not a person to gain unbounded
admiration.
She looked coolly at Agnes in return. She must have noticed the change
in the Kenway girl’s expression since she had passed her and Neale
before. As Agnes smiled and bowed Nalbro Hastings returned the greeting
with the very faintest of nods and walked on immediately as though
having no desire to improve shipboard acquaintance.
Neale began to shiver and his teeth chattered. Agnes stared at him
sternly.
“I believe if you would behave, Neale O’Neil, I’d get on better in the
world,” she sighed. “I believe you were laughing when Miss Hastings went
by. Well, now, listen! I am going to get acquainted with her. Maybe she
will go to the St. Sergius Arms where Mr. Howbridge has got reservations
for us. It is the most fashionable hotel on the island.”
“Do I have to put on full dress for dinner at night?” demanded Neale,
not at all pleased.
“You do,” said Agnes wickedly. “And I shall insist upon your going to
the manicure every other day.”
“Ow! Ow!” groaned Neale. “Lucky I don’t have to frequent the barber shop
as Luke does. I suppose you would then insist upon facial massage, my
lady?”
“Be still!” commanded the girl half in laughter and half serious. “I
mean to become very snug with Nalbro Hastings, now you see.”
“I can see you’ve got a crush on her,” grumbled Neale, “just because you
think she’s of the smart set. I wish you wouldn’t get these fits, Agnes.
You are such a jolly good sport otherwise.”
At that Agnes Kenway took real offense and would not speak to him again
for half an hour.