Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill | Page 8

gone in with the unconscious boy and the stretcher
hung about the doctor's door, which was some yards from the gateway.
Everybody seemed to have forgotten the girl, a stranger in Cheslow,
and for the first day of her life away from kind and indulgent friends.
It was only ten minutes walk to the railroad station, and Ruth
remembered that it was a straight road. She arrived in the waiting room
safely enough. Sam Curtis, the station master, descried her immediately
and came out of his office with her bag.
"Well, and what happened? Is that boy really hurt?" he asked.
"He has a broken arm and his head is cut. I do not know how seriously,
for Doctor Davison had not finished examining him when I-- I came
away," she replied, bravely enough, and hiding the fact that she had
been overlooked.
"They took him to the doctor's house, did they?" asked Sam.
"Yes, sir," said Ruth. "But--"
"Mr. Curtis, has there been anybody here for me?"
"For you, Miss?" the station master returned, somewhat surprised it
seemed.
"Yes, sir. Anybody from Red Mill?"
Curtis smote one fist into his other palm, exclaiming:

"You don't mean to say that you was what Jabe Potter was after?"
"Mr. Jabez Potter, who keeps the Red Mill, is my uncle," Ruth
observed, with dignity.
"My goodness gracious me, Miss! He was here long before your train
was due. He's kind of short in his speech, Miss. And he asked me if
there was anything here for him, and I told him no. And he stumped out
again without another word. Why, I thought he was looking for an
express package, or freight. Never had an idea he was expectin' a
niece!"
Ruth still looked at him earnestly. The man did not suspect, by her
appearance, how hard a time she was having to keep the tears from
overrunning those calm, gray eyes.
"And you expected to go out to the Red Mill to-night, Miss?" he
continued. "They're country folk out there and they'd all be abed before
you could get there, even if you took a carriage."
"I don't know that I have enough to pay for carriage hire," Ruth said,
softly. "Is-- is there any place I can stop over night in the village? Then
I can walk out in the morning."
"Why-- there's a hotel. But a young girl like you-- You'll excuse me,
Miss. You're young to be traveling alone."
"Perhaps I haven't money enough to pay for a lodging there?"
suggested Ruth. "I have a dollar. It was given me to spend as I liked on
the way. But Miss True gave me such a big box of luncheon that I did
not want anything."
"A dollar wouldn't go far at the Brick Hotel," murmured the station
agent. He still stared at her, stroking his lean, shaven jaw. Finally he
burst out with: "I tell you! We'll go home and see what my wife says."
At the moment the station began to jar with the thunder of a coming
train and Ruth could not make herself heard in reply to his proposal.

Besides, Sam Curtis hurried out on the platform. Nor was Ruth ready to
assert her independence and refuse any kind of help the station master
might offer. So she sat down patiently and waited for him.
There were one or two passengers only to disembark from this train and
they went away from the station without even coming into the waiting
room. Then Curtis came back, putting out the lights and locking his
ticket office. The baggage room was already locked and Ruth's old
trunk was in it.
"Come on now, girl-- What's your name?" asked Curtis.
"Ruth Fielding."
"Just so! Well, it's only a step to our house and wife will have supper
waiting. And there's nobody else there save Mercy."
Ruth was a little curious about "Mercy"-- whether it referred to
abounding grace, or was a person's name. But she asked no questions as
they came out of the railroad station and Sam Curtis locked the door.
They did not cross the tracks this time, but went into the new part of the
town. Turning a corner very soon as they walked up what Curtis said
was Market Street, they reached, on a narrow side street, a little,
warm-looking cottage, from almost all the lower windows of which the
lamplight shone cheerfully. There was a garden beside it, with a big
grape arbor arranged like a summer-house with rustic chairs and a table.
The light shining on the side porch revealed the arbor to Ruth's quick
eyes.
When they stepped upon this porch Ruth heard a very shrill and not at
all pleasant voice saying-- very rapidly, and over and over again: "I
don't want to!