"A RURAL BEAUTY"
Nan Sherwood could not bear to see anybody cry. Her heart had already
gone out to the farmer's wife whose foolish daughter had left home, and
to see the good woman sobbing so behind her apron, won every grain of
sympathy and pity in Nan's nature.
"Oh, you poor soul!" cried the girl, hovering over Mrs. Morton, and
putting an arm across her broad, plump shoulders. "Don't cry--don't,
don't cry! I'm _sure_ the girls will come back. They are foolish to
run away; but surely they will be glad to get back to their dear,
dear homes."
"You don't know my Sallie," sobbed the woman.
"Oh! but she can't forget you--of course she can't," Nan said. "Why ever
did they want to run away from home?"
"Them plagued movin' picters," Mr. Snubbins said gruffly, blowing his
nose. "I don't see how I kin tell my woman about Celia."
"It was that there 'Rural Beauty' done it," Mr. Morton broke in
peevishly. "Wish't I'd never let them film people camp up there on my
paster lot and take them picters on my farm. Sallie was jest carried away
with it. She acted in that five-reel film, 'A Rural Beauty.' And I must
say she looked as purty as a peach in it."
"That's what they've run away for, I bet," broke in Si Snubbins. "Celia
was nigh about crazy to see that picter run off. She was in it, too. Of
course, a big drama like that wouldn't come to the Corner, and I
shouldn't wonder if that's what took 'em both to the city, first of all.
Still," he added, "I reckon they wanter be actorines, too."
Bess suppressed a giggle at that, for Si Snubbins was funny, whether
intentionally so or not. Nan continued to try to soothe the almost
hysterical Mrs. Morton. Mr. Morton said:
"Let's have that letter, Maw, that Sallie writ and sent back by Sam
Higgins from Littleton."
Mrs. Morton reached out a hand blindly with the paper in it. Nan took it
to give to Mr. Morton.
"You read it, Si," said Mr. Morton. "I ain't got my specs handy."
"Neither have I--and I ain't no hand to read writin' nohow," said his
neighbor, honestly. "Here, young lady," to Nan. "Your eyes is better than
ourn; you read it out to us."
Nan did as she was asked, standing beside Mrs. Morton's chair the while
with a hand upon her shoulder:
"'Dear Maw and Paw:--
"'Celia and me have gone to the city and we are going to get jobs with
the movies. We know we can--and make good, too. You tell Celia's Paw and
Maw about her going with me. I'll take care of her. We've got plenty
money--what with what we earned posing in those pictures in the fall, the
Rural Beauty, and all. We will write you from where we are going, and you
won't mind when you know how successful we are and how we are getting
regular wages as movie actresses.
"'Good-bye, dear Paw and Maw, and a hundred kisses for Maw from
"'Your daughter,
"'Sallie Morton.
"'P.S.--I won't be known by my own name in the movies. I've picked a real
nice sounding one, and so has Celia.'"
"There! You see?" said Mrs. Morton, who had taken the apron down so she
could hear Nan the better. "We can't never trace 'em, because they'll be
going by some silly names. Dear, dear me, Peke! Somethin' must be done."
"I dunno what, Maw," groaned the big man, hopelessly.
"What city have they gone to?" asked Bess, abruptly.
"Why, Miss," explained Mr. Morton, "they could go to half a dozen cities
from Littleton. Of course they didn't stay there, although Littleton's a
big town."
"Chicago?" queried Bess.
"Perhaps. But they could get to Detroit, or Indianapolis, or even to
Cincinnati."
"There are more picture making concerns in Chicago," suggested Nan,
quietly, "than in the other cities named, I am sure. And the fare to
Chicago is less than to the others."
"Right you air, Miss!" agreed Si Snubbins. "That's where them pesky gals
have set out for, I ain't a doubt."
"And how are we goin' to get 'em back?" murmured Mr. Morton.
"The good Lord won't let no harm come to the dears, I hope and pray,"
said his wife, wiping her eyes. "Somebody'll be good to 'em if they get
sick or hungry. There! We ain't showin' very good manners to our guests,
Peke. These girls are off that train where there ain't a bite to eat, I
do suppose; and they must be half starved. Let's have supper. You pull up
a chair, too, Si."
"All right, Miz' Morton," agreed Mr. Snubbins, briskly.
Nan felt some diffidence in accepting the good woman's hospitality. She
whispered again to Bess:
"Shall we stay? They're in such trouble."
"But goodness!" interrupted Bess. "I'm hungry. And we want to get her
interested in the kiddies aboard the train."
"Yes, that's so," agreed Nan.
"Come, girls," Mrs. Morton called from the other room. "Come right in
and lay off your things--do. You are pretty dears--both of you. City
girls, I'spect?"
"No, ma'am," Nan replied. "We live in a small town when we are at home.
But we've been to boarding school and are on our way home for Christmas."
"And after that," Bess added briskly, "we're going to Chicago for
two--whole--weeks!"
"You air? Well, well! D'you hear that, Peke?" as her husband came heavily
into the room.
"What is it, Maw?"
"These girls are going to Chicago. If our Sallie and Si's Celia have gone
there, mebbe these girls might come across them."
"Oh, Mrs. Morton!" cried Nan. "If we do, we will surely send them home to
you. Or, if they are foolish enough not to want to come, we'll let you
know at once where they are."
"Of course we will," agreed Bess.
"If you only had a picture of your daughter?" suggested Nan.
"Of Sallie? Why, we have," said Mrs. Morton. "She's some bigger now; but
she had her photographt took in several 'poses', as they call 'em, when
she was playin' in that 'Rural Beauty'. I got the prints myself from the
man that took 'em."
But when she hunted for the pictures, Mrs. Morton found they were
missing. "I declare for't!" she said, quite vexed. "I do believe that
Sallie took 'em with her to show to folks she expects to ask for work.
Jest like her! Oh, she's smart, Sallie is."
"There's that picter she had took the time we went to the County Fair,
three year ago, Maw," suggested Mr. Morton, as they prepared to sit down
to the bountiful table. "I 'low she's filled out some since then; she
was as leggy as a colt. But these gals can see what she looks like in
the face."
While he was speaking his wife brought forth the family album--a green
plush affair with a huge gilt horseshoe on the cover. She turned over the
leaves till she found Sallie's photograph, and displayed it with pride.
Nan secretly thought her father's description of Sallie at twelve years
old or so was a very good one; but Mrs. Morton evidently saw no defects
in her child's personal appearance.
"Sallie wore her hair in curls then, you see," said Mrs. Morton. "But she
says they ain't fashionable now, and she's been windin' her braids into
eartabs like that leadin' lady in the movie company done. Makes Sallie
look dreadfully growed up," sighed the troubled woman. "I sartainly do
hate to see my little girl change into a woman so quick."
"That's what my woman says," agreed Snubbins. "Celia's 'bout growed up,
she thinks. But I reckon if her mother laid her across her lap like she
uster a few years back, she could nigh about slap most of the foolishness
out o' Celia. Gals nowadays git to feel too big for their boots--that's
what the matter."
"Mercy!" gasped Bess. "I hope my mother won't go back to first
principles with me, if I displease her. And I'm sure your Celia can't be
really bad."
"Just foolish--just foolish, both on 'em," Mr. Morton said. "Let me help
you again."
"Oh, I'm so full," sighed Bess.
"I'm afraid ye ain't makin' out a supper," Mrs. Morton said.
"Indeed we are," cried Nan. "I only wish the children on that snow-bound
train had some of these good things."
This turned the current of conversation and the Mortons were soon
interested in the girls' story of the castaways in the snow. Mrs. Morton
set to work at once and packed two big baskets with food. A whole ham
that she had boiled that day was made into sandwiches. There were hard
boiled eggs, and smoked beef and cookies, pies and cakes. In fact, the
good woman stripped her pantry for the needy people in the stalled train.
Her husband got into his outer garments and helped Si Snubbins carry the
baskets across the snow. Mrs. Morton's last words to the girls were:
"Do, _do_, my dears, try to find my girl and Celia when you go to
Chicago."
Nan and Bess promised to do so, for neither realized what a great city
Chicago is, and that people might live there, almost side by side, for
years and never meet.