Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill | Page 9

I don't want to! I don't want to!" It might have been a
parrot, or some other ill-natured talking bird; only Ruth saw nothing of
the feathered conversationalist when Sam opened the door and ushered
her in.
"Here we are, wife!" he exclaimed, cheerfully. "And how's Mercy?"

The reiterated declaration had stopped instantly. A comely, kind-faced
woman with snow-white hair, came forward. Ruth saw that she was
some years younger than Curtis, and he was not yet forty. It was not
Father Time that had powdered Mrs. Curtis' head so thickly.
"Mercy is-- Why, who's this?" she asked espying Ruth. "One of the
girls come in to see her?"
Instantly the same whining, shrill voice began:
"I don't want her to see me! They come to stare at me! I hate 'em all!
All girls do is to run and jump and play tag and ring-around-a-rosy and
run errands, and dance! I hate 'em!"
This was said very, very fast-- almost chattered; and it sounded so
ill-natured, so impatient, so altogether mean and hateful, that Ruth fell
back a step, almost afraid to enter the pleasant room. But then she saw
the white-haired lady's face, and it was so grieved, yet looked such a
warm welcome to her, that she took heart and stepped farther in, so that
Sam Curtis could shut the door,
The father appeared to pay no attention to the fault-finding, shrill
declamation of the unhappy voice. He said, in explanation, to his wife:
"This is Ruth Fielding. She has come a long. way by train to-day,
expecting to meet her uncle, old Jabe Potter of the Red Mill. And you
know how funny Jabe is, wife? He came before the train, and did not
wait, but drove right away with his mules and so there was nobody here
to meet Ruthie. She's marooned here till the morning, you see."
"Then she shall stay with us to-night," declared Mrs. Curtis, quickly.
"I don't want her to stay here to-night!" ejaculated the same shrill voice.
Mr. and Mrs. Curtis paid no attention to what was said by this
mysterious third party. Ruth, coming farther into the room, found that it
was large and pleasant. There was a comfortable look about it all. The
supper table was set and the door was opened into the warm kitchen,

from which delicious odors of tea and toast with some warm dish of
meat, were wafted in. But the shrill and complaining voice had not
come from the next room.
In the other corner beside the stove, yet not too near it, stood a small
canopy bed with the pretty chintz curtains drawn all about it. Beside it
stood a wheel-chair such as Ruth knew was used by invalids who could
not walk. It was a tiny chair, too, and it and the small bed went together.
But of the occupant of either she saw not a sign.
"Supper will be ready just as soon as our guest has a chance to remove
the traces of travel, Sam," said Mrs. Curtis, briskly. "Come with me,
Ruth."
When they returned from the pleasant little bed-chamber which the
good-hearted lady told Ruth was to be her own for that night, they
heard voices in the sitting room-- the voice of Mr. Curtis and the
querulous one. But it was not so sharp and strained as it seemed before.
However, on opening the door, Mr. Curtis was revealed sitting alone
and there was no sign of the owner of the sharp voice, which Ruth
supposed must belong to the invalid.
"Mercy has had her supper; hasn't she, wife?" said the station master as
he drew his chair to the table and motioned Ruth to the extra place Mrs.
Curtis had set.
The woman nodded and went briskly about putting the supper on the
table. While they ate Mr. Curtis told about Reno stopping the train, and
of the search for and recovery of the injured Cameron boy. All the time
Ruth, who sat sideways to the canopied bed, realized that the curtains at
the foot were drawn apart just a crack and that two very bright,
pin-point eyes were watching her. So interested did these eyes become
as the story progressed, and Ruth answered questions, that more of
Mercy Curtis' face was revealed-- a sharp, worn little face, with a
peaked chin and pale, thin cheeks.
Ruth was very tired when supper was ended and the kind Mrs. Curtis
suggested that she go to bed and obtain a good night's rest if she was to

walk to the Red Mill in the morning. But even when she bade her
entertainers good-night she did not see the child in the canopy bed and
she felt diffident about asking Mrs. Curtis about her. The young
traveler slept soundly-- almost from