MERCY
Ruth felt that she was not very successful at Miss Cramp's school. Not
that she had fallen behind in her studies, or failed to please her
kind instructor; but among the pupils of the upper grade she was all
but unconsidered. Perhaps, had time been given her, Ruth might have
won her way with some of the fairer-minded girls; but in the few short
weeks she had been in the district she had only managed to make
enemies among the members of her own class.
There was probably no girl in the graduating class, from Julia Semple
and Rosa Ball, down the line, who was not glad that the girl from the
Red Mill--a charity child!--was not numbered in the regular class
and had no part in the graduating exercises. Nevertheless, Ruth
proposed, if it were possible, to enter the Cheslow High School in the
fall, and to that end she was determined to work at her books--with
Miss Cramp's help--all summer.
When it came to the last day, however, and it was known that Ruth
would not come back to that school again in the autumn, the smaller
girls gathered about her and were really sorry that she was to go.
Forced out of any part with her own grade of pupils, Ruth had taken
the little ones about her and played and taught them games, had told
them stories on rainy days, and otherwise endeared herself to them.
And now the little folk made much of her on this last day, bringing
her flowers, and little presents, and clinging about her before the
afternoon session began and their parents and friends came to listen
to the exercises, in a way that was very pretty to behold.
Aunt Alvirah wanted to come to the closing exercises of the school;
but to expect Uncle Jabez to leave the mill in business hours for any
such thing as that was altogether ridiculous to contemplate. Uncle
Jabez had, however, paid some small attention to Ruth in her new
dress. Before she started for school that last day she went to the
mill door and showed herself to the miller.
"Well, I don't see but you look as fine as the rest of 'em," he said,
slowly. "And the price ain't much. You used judgment in buying, Niece
Ruth. I'll say that much for ye."
This being the first word of approval the miller had ever given her,
the girl appreciated it to its full value. Since he had given her the
dress she had wished more than ever to become friendly with him. But
he was so moody and so given up to his accounts and the hoarding of
wealth, that it seemed next to impossible for the girl to get near
Uncle Jabez. Besides, he had never recovered from the bitterness
engendered by the loss of the cash-box. A heavy scowl rested upon his
brow all the time. Sometimes he sighed and shook his head when he sat
idle at the table, or on the porch in the evening; and Ruth believed
he must be mourning the money which the flood was supposed to have
swept away.
But although neither of the old folks at the Red Mill came to see the
graduating exercises, Ruth was not exactly unhappy. The little
children showing her that they liked her so well, could not fail to be
a lasting pleasure to Ruth. And Helen and Tom, with their governess,
Mrs. Murchiston, attended the exercises, and Helen sat with Ruth.
"And we're going to take you home; the carriage will come for us,"
Helen whispered in her ear.
"No," Ruth said, shaking her head, "I cannot go home with you. You
know, Uncle--"
"He is an ogre," whispered Helen, with vigor.
That made Ruth smile a little, and she told Helen what Mercy Curtis
called the owner of the Red Mill, and of the fancy the lame girl had
taken for Uncle Jabez. "He is 'Dusty Miller' to Mercy, and I shouldn't
be surprised if Uncle Jabez had her out for a day or two, if the
doctor will let her come. And you mustn't call him names, I tell you.
See how good he has been to me. He gave me this new dress."
"That must have hurt him awfully," said Helen, sharply. "Not but that
the dress is becoming and pretty, dear. But that's the only thing he's
ever given you, I warrant--and he lost your trunk!"
The Camerons insisted upon driving Ruth as far as the Red Mill, just
the same. Mrs. Murchiston was a very pleasant lady, and Helen and Tom
evidently thought a good deal of her.
"I should have been glad to have you for Helen's playmate this summer,
my dear," said the governess to Ruth. "And I wish you were fortunate
enough to be able to go with Helen this fall. You have just the
characteristics in your nature to balance dear Helen's impetuosity."
"Oh, I wish indeed she was going to Briarwood Hall," cried Helen.
"I shall be satisfied if the way is opened for me to go to high
school," Ruth declared, smiling. "Uncle has said nothing against it,
and I shall begin next week walking in to Miss Cramp's to recite."
Helen asked very minutely about Ruth's plans for going to Cheslow to
recite, and the very first day of the next week, when the girl of the
Red Mill started for town, who should overtake her within half a mile
of the mill, but Helen and her governess going to Cheslow on a
shopping errand, and drawn by Tubby, the pony. Of course, there was
room for Ruth in the phaeton, and Helen and Mrs. Murchiston remained
in town as long as Ruth did and brought her back with them. Ruth had
time to run in and see Mercy Curtis.
"I'm coming out to the Red Mill, so now!" declared the lame girl. "I
asked Doctor Davison, and he says yes. And if he says so, that uncle
of yours, Dusty Miller, will have to let me. Folks have to do as
Doctor Davison says, you know. And your uncle--isn't he just an ugly
dear? Does he look just that cross all the time? I bet he never
forgives his Enemy!"
This novel reason for liking Uncle Jabez would have been amusing had
there not been a serious side to it. This odd child, with her warped
and twisted fancies, was to be pitied, and Ruth secretly pitied her
with all her heart. But she was careful now not to show Mercy that she
commiserated her condition; that way was not the way to the cripple's
heart.
Nevertheless, being a little less afraid of Uncle Jabez than she once
was, that very evening she mentioned Mercy's desire to him. Uncle
Jabez never smiled, but it could be said that his face relaxed when
she called up the memory of Sam Curtis' crippled daughter.
"Yes; why not?" rejoined Aunt Alvirah. "Have the poor leetle creetur
out here, Jabez. She'll be no bother to you. And she kin sleep with
Ruthie."
"How'll she get up and down stairs?" demanded the miller, quite
surprising Ruth and Aunt Alvirah by considering this phase of the
matter. "You'll have to open the East bedroom, Alviry."
"Jest as you say, Jabez," answered the old woman, very meekly, but her
bright eyes sparkling as she glanced aside at Ruth. "She kin roll
herself in her chair in and out of that room, and onto the porch."
"I'll see Doc. Davison when he drives by to-morrer," promised Uncle
Jabez, with his usual bruskness. "If he says it's all right, she can
come. I'll bring her chair and her luggage out in the wagon on
Saturday. The Doc. will arrange about her being brought out
comfortably."
All this was so amazing that Ruth could not speak. Except when he had
been angry, or at the time his cash-box was lost when the flood came
down the river, she had never heard Uncle Jabez make so long a speech.
Aunt Alvirah was no person with whom she could discuss this great
change in the miller; and when Doctor Davison was hailed by Mr. Potter
the next day and stopped at the mill for quite half an hour to confer
with him, Ruth was still more amazed.
Every other day Ruth was to go to town, if it was fair. Uncle Jabez
made no comment upon her absence; nor did he put himself out in the
least to arrange for any means of transportation for his niece. He
seldom went to Cheslow himself, save on Saturdays.
Ruth's next trip to Miss Cramp's was on a very hot day indeed. There
was a glare of hot sun on the long hill and just enough fitful breeze
to sift the road-dust all over her as she walked. But--and how
fortunate that was!--before she had gone far the purring of a
motor-car engine aroused her attention and Tom Cameron ran along
beside her in his father's auto and stopped.
"Ain't I lucky?" he cried. "Get in here, Ruthie, and I'll take you to
town in a jiffy."
"I'm the lucky one, I think," said Ruth, smiling in return as she
slipped into the seat beside him. "And I almost believe, Tommy
Cameron, that you knew I was starting for town and came along just to
give me a lift."
He grinned at her. "Don't you think you're mighty important?" he
teased. "Suppose I haven't anything else to think about but you
girls?"
Just the same, Ruth stuck to this belief. But she had to confess that
she was glad of the ride to town. It would have been very, very hot in
the sun and dust.
"And it's real summer, now," she said. "It will be hot in town. I'm so
glad Mercy is going to get out of it."
"What do you mean?" demanded Tom. "Is she going to be taken away?"
Ruth told him of the remarkable interest Uncle Jabez had taken in the
crippled girl. Tom could scarcely have been more surprised.
"Why, the old curmudgeon has got a decent streak in him, after all;
hasn't he?" he exclaimed, rather thoughtlessly.
"Don't speak that way of him, Tom," urged Ruth. "I know you've got
reason for disliking him--"
"What do you mean?" demanded Tom, turning on her sharply.
"Oh, I--Well, Tom, you know I believe I could easily find the man who
almost drove the team over you the night you were hurt? And you've
known it all the time, and kept still about it!"
"That mean, contemptible Jasper Parloe! He's told!" gasped Tom.
"Jasper Parloe told?" repeated Ruth. "Not me."
"Then--"
"You muttered it when they carried you to the doctor's house that
night. You said it was my uncle," said Ruth, quietly. "I have known it
all along, and so has Parloe, I suppose. He and I were the only
persons who heard what you said when you were but half conscious.
You've kept still about it so as to shield Uncle, and I thank you."
Tom looked abashed; but he was angry, too. "Confound that Parloe!" he
exclaimed again. "He's been bleeding me, too! Threatened to go to my
father and tell about it--and Dad would have been pretty hot with
your uncle, I expect."
"It was just fine of you, Tommy," Ruth said, admiringly. "But I'd let
that Parloe tell anything he liked. Uncle Jabez never meant to run you
down, I'm sure."
"I tell you what," said Tom. "I'll go to him myself and talk with him.
Guess I can do a little bargaining on my own hook. If I don't make him
any trouble about my accident, he ought to let you and Helen be spoons
again. She's just about worrying herself sick over you."
"It will come right, Tom, in the end," returned Ruth, quietly, and
repeating Aunt Alvirah's favorite word of cheer. "Uncle is changed, I
believe. Think of his taking so much interest in Mercy!"
"I'll see Doctor Davison," said Tom, eagerly; "and perhaps I'll bring
the sick girl out on Saturday. She ought to be very comfortable in
this machine. Helen would be glad to do something for her, too."
"But you don't want to make any show of doing anything for Mercy,"
returned Ruth, shaking her head as she got out before the station
master's cottage. "There she is at the window. She'll be curious about
you, I've no doubt."
She only ran in for a few moments to see Mercy before going on to Miss
Cramp's.
"That's that Cameron boy," said the crippled girl, in her sharp way.
"I see him and that sister of his whizzing through this street before
in their car. Wish it'd blow up some day when they're showing off."
Ruth had got so now that she never showed surprise at Mercy's harsh
speeches. She refused to admit that she took the lame girl seriously
in her ugly moods.
"Now, you'd better not wish that, Mercy," she laughed. "Tom wants to
take you out to the Red Mill on Saturday in that same automobile.
Uncle Jabez is going to take the wheel chair and your baggage. You'll
like riding in the car well enough."
For a moment the cripple was silent and her eyes fell before Ruth's
gaze. Suddenly the guest saw that Mercy's shoulders shook and that
tears were actually dropping from Mercy's eyes.
"My dear!" she cried.
"Go away!" murmured the crippled girl. "I want to be alone. I ain't
never believed," she went on, with more vigor than grammar, "that I'd
ever get out to your house. Is--is it really so that I can?"
"Uncle Jabez is determined you shall come. So is Doctor Davison. So am
I. Everybody is helping. Why, Mercy, you'd have to come to the Red
Mill on a visit now, even if you didn't want to!" cried Ruth, laughing
happily.