FINE NEWS
The arrival of Helen and Jennie Marchand was like a breath of fresh air,
blowing away the cobwebs in Ruth’s worried mind.
Helen explained that the other girls had gone motoring with their
friends of the evening before and had sent word to Ruth that they would
probably stop in at the Red Mill later in the day.
Jennie was puffing with hard exercise and blamed Helen for making her
walk so fast.
“Now that I am a young matron and not a harum-scarum schoolgirl,” she
said, as primly as Jennie could, “I prefer to walk rather than run to my
appointments.”
“Cheer up, you’re not the only pebble on the beach,” Helen retorted
flippantly, as she flung herself into a corner of the old couch. “Before
long I myself may become that awfully uninteresting, fearfully settled,
dried up old prune that people kindly term a young matron!”
Jennie giggled, but Ruth glanced at her friend quickly. She could see
that beneath Helen’s flippant manner was an undercurrent of excitement,
of pleasure. Something important had happened to Helen.
She went over and perched on the arm of her chum’s chair.
“Helen,” she said, “you may pull the wool over the eyes of most people,
but you’d better not try it with your Ruth. It won’t work.”
“You precious old thing!” Helen reached up and stroked Ruth’s hand
fondly. “I wouldn’t try to pull anything over those perfectly gorgeous
orbs of yours, Ruthie. It would be a sin and a shame.”
“Then what,” persisted Ruth, “was that news you were threatening to die
of when you burst in the door?”
“I didn’t burst in,” Helen protested, but was rudely shaken by her
friend.
“Out with it, or you shan’t come to Montana with me!”
“Oh, what a threat! You could never do such a thing to me, Ruth. You
have too big a heart. Oh, that reminds me, you were waiting to hear
about my news.”
“We’re waiting,” agreed Jennie dryly.
“Well, it isn’t so much, really, except as it affects me--and Chess,”
Helen began, and Ruth could tell by the restraint in her voice that
Helen’s news was of an emotional nature. It was always hard for Helen to
maintain her gravity in moments of sentiment. She hesitated for a
moment, then said, quite suddenly, glancing up at Ruth: “You remember
that uncle of Chess’s who owned what you called the ‘snowball property’
up North?”
Ruth’s eyes danced. She was intensely interested.
“Quite vividly,” she nodded. “Also I remember the day we went with
Delabarre and Briais, all comfy and snug in the sled behind the dog team
to look the property over.”
“And the time shortly after that,” Helen added, squeezing her chum’s
hand in the painful memories revived by the recollection, “when you
jumped into the pit with half a dozen bears and did your best to get
yourself eaten up by them.”
“There were only three bears,” Ruth corrected demurely.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Heavy, from her place as onlooker to all these
wonderful adventures, “you girls have all the fun while I have to stay
at home and take care of Henri.”
“Probably that is quite as exciting at times as falling into a pit with
three wild animals,” said Helen gravely.
“Married life at times,” chuckled Jennie, “would certainly make such an
adventure look tame!”
“Is that why you’ve left home now, Heavy, and left your Henri in
France?” asked Helen.
And then they laughed happily at such absurdity and Ruth urged Helen
again to go on with her story.
“What about the uncle and the ‘snowball property’?” she prompted.
“This darling precious old uncle,” Helen replied, “is willing to back
Chess in a big business deal that has been hanging fire for some time on
account of a small and inconsiderable thing such as the lack of ready
cash. Chess’s uncle is willing to supply the cash, which seems to make
everything lovely.”
Ruth’s arm tightened about her chum’s shoulder. She had read more into
the laughing sentence than Helen had said in words.
“And that means--” she prompted.
“Oh, Ruthie, it means,” Helen’s voice sank so low that Ruth had to bend
over her to hear at all, “that Chess and I won’t have to go on waiting
any more. Money seems to clear the way for most everything, doesn’t it?
Of course, we wouldn’t have starved, but Chess wanted to stand on his
own feet. And I just love him for that!”
“Well, just listen to my kid sister! She’s actually getting
sentimental!”
The girls looked up, startled, to see Tom grinning at them from the
doorway.
Before they could think of anything to say he advanced into the room and
stood, hands in pockets, staring down thoughtfully at the discomfited
Helen.
“I suppose,” he said with tremendous gravity, “it’s up to me to kiss the
bride!”
“If you dare!” cried his ungrateful sister. She seized a pillow and
poised it threateningly. “Get out of here, Tommy. Didn’t you know I was
speaking to my friends?”
“Oof!” grunted Tom, as he chose discretion and promptly retreated. “I’m
not a friend. I’m only a brother!”
They laughed a little, and Ruth and Jennie questioned Helen eagerly
after the manner of most girls on such occasions.
At the end Ruth put her arm about her chum and said softly:
“I’m glad for you and Chess, my dear. You and Chess will be mighty
happy.”
“Poor old ’Lasses,” sighed Jennie. “As my great aunt said to her son’s
fiancée on the eve of the young couple’s marriage, ‘Poor dear Harry, he
was such a happy boy!’”
It was then that Jennie received the full impact of the sofa cushion
which, but a moment before, had threatened Tom.
Ruth laughed.
“Don’t let Heavy fuss you, Helen,” she said. “Harry may have been a
happy boy and a still happier man.”
“But we know Helen!” interposed Jennie.
“Just so!” retorted Ruth. “Chess’s chances for bliss are excellent.”
“Thank you, Ruthie, for them kind words,” murmured Helen, her eyes
dancing.
Jennie and Helen stayed to lunch and went for a walk soon afterward,
leaving Ruth once more to the task of revising and perfecting her
scenario.
She found it unusually hard to concentrate on her work. There was still
the fear that she had made a mistake in engaging Boardman.
Tom found her bent over the manuscript, brow furrowed, looking tired and
harassed.
“You have done enough work for to-day, Ruth Fielding,” he told her.
Before she could prevent him he had gathered up the pages of her
manuscript and put them away definitely in a drawer. She made a motion
as though to open the drawer, whereupon Tom calmly locked it and
pocketed the key.
“Now what are you going to do about it?” he challenged, grinning at her.
“But, Tom, I haven’t done a speck of real work to-day,” she protested.
“And there is so much to do!”
“Not all at once,” said Tom. “The whole trouble with Ruth Fielding is
that she never knows when to stop working.”
“I certainly am glad you know what’s wrong with her,” said Ruth, with a
doleful sigh. “I’ve been trying all day to find out.”
Tom laughed cheerfully, got to his feet, seized Ruth’s hands and pulled
her up beside him.
“Come on! What you need is a breath of fresh air. You’ve no idea how
good fresh air is for ideas,” he added gravely as Ruth, protesting,
allowed herself to be led outside to Tom’s car which stood waiting for
them. “It seems just to breed ’em!”
Ruth laughed helplessly.
“I have an idea right now that I am being kidnapped against my better
judgment,” she said.
“You know better!” Tom grinned at her as he slid in behind the low-slung
wheel. “You were just pining for some nice strong man to come along and
separate you from your arduous labors. Besides,” he added with a long
and doleful sigh, “I feel that it is up to me to make hay while the sun
shines.”
Ruth looked at him curiously. The wind on her face did feel good. All
her worries seemed to have vanished in the swift rush of it.
“Just what did you mean by that?” she queried.
Tom looked at her quizzically.
“With that handsome Boardman chap on the premises, I can see where old
Tom will have to watch his step!”
Ruth laughed contentedly.
“You old silly! How lucky you would be, Tommy boy, if you never had
anything worse than that to worry about.”