Ralestone Luck | Page 4

"But we are going to," she answered confidently. "I know we are!"
"A good thing," Rupert broke in, a hint of soberness beneath the lightness of his tone as
he looked about the almost bare room and then at the strained pallor of Val's thin face.
"The Ralestones have been luckless too long. And now suppose we take possession of
this commodious mansion. I suggest that we get settled as soon as possible. I don't like
the looks of the western sky. We're probably going to have a storm."
"What about the car?" Val asked as his brother turned to go.
"Harrison used the old carriage house as a garage. I'll run it in there. You and Ricky
better do a spot of exploring and see about beds and food. I don't know how you feel," he
went on grimly, "but after last night I want something softer than a dozen rocks to sleep
on."
"I told you not to stop at that tourist place," began Ricky smugly. "I said--"
"You said that a house painted that shade of green made you slightly ill. But you didn't

say anything about beds," Val reminded her as he shed his coat and hung it on the
newel-post. "And since the Ralestone family have definitely gone off the gold or any
other monetary standard, it's tourist rests or the poorhouse for us."
"Probably the poorhouse." Rupert sounded resigned. "Now upstairs with you and get out
some bedding. LeFleur said in his letter that the place was all ready for occupancy. And
he stocked up with canned stuff."
"I know--beans! Just too, too divine. Well, let's know the worst." Ricky started up the
stairs. "I suppose there are electric lights?"
"Got to throw the main switch first, and I haven't time to do that now. Here, Val." Rupert
tossed him his tiny pocket torch as he turned to go. The door closed behind him and
Ricky looked over her shoulder.
"This--this is rather a darkish place, isn't it?"
"Not so bad." Val considered the hall below, which seemed suddenly peopled by an
overabundance of oddly shaped shadows.
"No," her voice grew stronger, "not so bad. We're together anyway, Val. Last year I
thought I'd die, shut up in that awful school, and then coming home to hear--"
"About me making my first and last flight. Yes, not exactly a rest cure for any of us, was
it? But it's all over now. The Ralestones may be down but they're not out, yet, in spite of
Mosile Oil and those coal-mines. D'you know, we might use some of that nice gilt-edged
stock for wall-paper. There's enough to cover a closet at least. Here we are, Rupert from
beating about the globe trying to be a newspaper man, you straight from N'York's finest
finishing-school, and me--well, out of the plainest hospital bed I ever saw. We've got this
house and what Rupert managed to clear from the wreck. Something will turn up. In the
meantime--"
"Yes?" she prompted.
"In the meantime," he went on, leaning against the banister for a moment's rest, "we can
be looking for the Luck. As Rupert says, we need it badly enough. Here's the upper hall.
Which way now?"
"Over to the left wing. These in front are what Rupert refers to as 'state bedrooms.'"
"Yes?" He opened the nearest door and whistled softly. "Not so bad. About the size of a
small union station and provided with all the comforts of a tomb. Decidedly not what we
want."
"Wait, here's a plaque set in the wall. Look!" She ran her finger over a glass-covered
square.
"Regulations for guests, or a floor plan to show how to reach the dining-room in the

quickest way," her brother suggested.
"No." She read aloud slowly:
"'This Room Was Occupied by General Andrew Jackson, the Victor of the Battle of New
Orleans, upon the Tenth Day after the Battle.'"
"Whew! 'Old Hickory' here! But I thought that the Ralestones were more or less under a
cloud at that time," commented Val.
"History--"
"In the making. Quite so. Now may I suggest that we find some slumber rooms slightly
more modern? Rupert is apt to become annoyed at undue delay in such matters."
They went down the hall and turned into a short cross corridor. From a round window at
the far end a ray of sun still swept in, but it was a sickly, faded ray. The storm Rupert had
spoken of could not be far off.
"This is the right way. Mr. Harrison had these little numbers put on the doors for his
guests," Ricky pointed out. "I'll take 'three'; that was marked on the plan he sent us as a
lady's room. You take that one across the hall and let Rupert have the one