A LONG LOOK AHEAD
"Hurrah! first glimpse of the old place!"
Helen cried this, with her head out of the Ark. The dust rolled up in a
cloud behind them as they topped the hill. Here Mary Cox had met Ruth and
Helen that first day, a year ago, when they approached the Hall.
There was no infant in the coach now save Jane Ann. And the chums were
determined to save the western girl from that strange and lonely feeling
they had themselves experienced.
There was nobody in view on the pastured hill. Down the slope the Ark
coasted and bye and bye Cedar Walk came into view.
"Shall we get out here, girls?" called Madge Steele, with a glance at
Mercy.
"Of course we shall," cried that sprightly person, shaking her fist at the
big senior. "Don't you dare try to spare _me_, Miss! I am getting so
strong and healthy I am ashamed of myself. Don't you dare!"
Madge kissed her warmly, as Ruth had. _That_ was the best way to treat
Mercy Curtis whenever she "exploded."
Suddenly Helen leaned out of the open half of the door on her side and
began to call a welcome to four girls who were walking briskly down the
winding pathway. Instantly they began to run, shouting joyfully in return.
"Here we be, young ladies," croaked Old Dolliver, bringing his tired
horses to a halt.
They struggled forth, Jane Ann coming last to help the lame girl--just a
mite. Then the two parties of school friends came together like the
mingling of waters.
One was a very plump girl with a smiling, rosy face; one was red-haired
and very sharp-looking, and the other two balanced each other evenly, both
being more than a little pretty, very well dressed, and one dark while the
other was light.
The light girl was Belle Tingley, and the dark one Lluella Fairfax; of
course, the red-haired one was Mary Cox, "The Fox," while the stout girl
could be no other than "Heavy" Jennie Stone.
The Fox came forward quickly and seized both of Ruth's hands. "Dear Ruth,"
she whispered. "I arrived just this morning myself. You know that my
brother is all right again?" and she kissed the girl of the Red Mill
warmly.
Belle and Lluella looked a bit surprised at Mary Cox's manifestation of
friendship for Ruth; but they did not yet know all the particulars of
their schoolmates' adventures at Silver Ranch.
Heavy was hurrying about, kissing everybody indiscriminately, and of
course performing this rite with Ruth at least twice.
"I'm so tickled to see you all, I can't tell!" she laughed. "And you're
all looking fine, too. But it does seem a month, instead of a week, since
I saw you."
"My! but you are looking bad yourself, Heavy," gibed Helen Cameron,
shaking her head and staring at the other girl. "You're just fading away
to a shadow."
"Pretty near," admitted Heavy. "But the doctor says I shall get my
appetite back after a time. I was allowed to drink the water two eggs were
boiled in for lunch, and to-night I can eat the holes out of a dozen
doughnuts. Oh! I'm convalescing nicely, thank you."
The girls who had reached the school first welcomed Jane Ann quite as
warmly as they did the others. There was an air about them all that seemed
protecting to the strange girl.
Other girls were walking up and down the Cedar Walk, and sometimes they
cast more than glances at the eight juniors who were already such
friends. Madge had immediately been swallowed up by a crowd of seniors.
"Say, Foxy! got an infant there?" demanded one girl.
"I suppose Fielding has made her a Sweetbriar already--eh?" suggested
another.
"The Sweetbriars do not have to fish for members," declared Helen, tossing
her head.
"Oh, my! See what a long tail our cat's got!" responded one of the other
crowd, tauntingly.
"The double quartette! There's just eight of them," crowed another. "There
certainly will be something doing at Briarwood Hall with those two
roomsful."
"Say! that's right!" cried Heavy, eagerly, to Ruth. "You, and Helen, and
Mercy, and Jinny, take that quartette room on our other side. We'll just
about boss that dormitory. What do you say?"
"If Mrs. Tellingham will agree," said Ruth. "I'll ask her."
"But you girls will be 'way ahead of me in your books," broke in Jane Ann.
"We needn't be ahead of you in sleeping, and in fun," laughed Heavy,
pinching her.
"Don't be offish, Miss Jinny," said Helen, calling her by the title that
the cowboys did.
"And my name--my dreadful, dreadful name!" groaned the western girl.
"I tell you!" exclaimed Ruth, "we're all friends. Let's agree how we shall
introduce Miss Hicks to the bunch. She must choose a name----"
"Why, call yourself 'Nita,' if you want to, dear," said Helen, patting the
western girl's arm. "That's the name you ran away with."
"But I'm ashamed of that. I know it is silly--and I chose it for a silly
reason. But you know what all these girls will do to 'Jane Ann,'" and she
shook her head, more than a little troubled.
"What's the matter with Ann?" demanded Mercy Curtis, sharply. "Isn't 'Ann
Hicks' sensible-sounding enough? For sure, it's not _pretty_; but we can't
all have both pretty names and pretty features," and she laughed.
"And it's mighty tough when you haven't got either," grumbled the new
girl.
"'Ann Hicks,'" quoth Ruth, softly. "I like it. I believe it sounds nice,
too--when you get used to it. 'Ann Hicks.' Something dignified and fine
about it--just as though you had been named after some really great
woman--some leader."
The others laughed; and yet they looked appreciation of Ruth Fielding's
fantasy.
"Bully for you, Ruthie!" cried Helen, hugging her. "If Ann Hicks agrees."
"It doesn't sound so bad without the 'Jane,'" admitted the western girl
with a sigh. "And Ruth says it so nicely."
"We'll all say it nicely," declared The Fox, who was a much different
"Fox" from what she had been the year before. "'Ann Hicks,' I bet you've
got a daguerreotype at home of the gentle old soul for whom you are named.
You know--silver-gray gown, pearls, pink cheeks, and a real ostrich
feather fan."
"My goodness me!" ejaculated the newly christened Ann Hicks, "you have
already arranged a very fanciful family tree for me. Can I ever live up to
such an ancestress as _that_?"
"Certainly you can," declared Ruth, firmly. "You've just _got_ to. Think
of the original Ann--as Mary described her--whenever you feel like
exploding. Her picture ought to bring you up short. A lady like that
_couldn't_ explode."
"Tough lines," grumbled the western girl. "Right from what you girls call
the 'wild and woolly,' and to have to live up to silver-gray silk and
pearls--M-m-m-m!"
"Now, say! say!" cried Belle Tingley, suddenly, and seizing upon Ruth,
about whom she had been hovering ever since they had met. "_I_ want to
talk a little. There aren't any more infants to christen, I hope?"
"Go on!" laughed Ruth, squeezing her. "What is the matter, _Bella mia_?"
"And don't talk Italian," said Belle, shrugging her shoulders. "Listen! I
promised to ask you the minute you arrived, Ruthie, and now you've been
here ten at least."
"It is something splendid," laughed Lluella, clapping her hands, evidently
being already a sharer in Belle's secret.
"I'll tell you--if they'll let me," panted Belle, shaking Ruth a little.
"Father's bought Cliff Island. It's a splendid place. We were there for
part of the summer. And there will be a great lodge built by Christmas
time and he has told me I might invite you all to come to the
house-warming. Now, Ruth! it remains with you. If you'll go, the others
will, I know. And it's a splendid place."
"Cliff Island?" gasped Ruth.
"Yes. In Lake Tallahaska."
"And your father has just bought it?"
"Yes. He had some trouble getting a clear title; but it's all right now.
They had to evict an old squatter. I want you all to come with me for the
mid-winter holiday. What do you say, Ruthie?" asked Belle, eagerly.
"I say it's a long look ahead," responded Ruth, slowly. "It's very kind of
you, Belle. But I'll have to write home first, of course. I'd like to go,
though--to Cliff Island--yes, indeed!"