Part 19 (1/2)

Ruth quite fell in love with the old lady-who did not appear so very old, after all. Perhaps she had kept her heart young in serving these ”fresh air” orphans, year after year. And Mr. Caslon seemed a very happy, jolly sort of man, too.

The two girls stole away quite frequently to watch the youngsters play, or to teach them new means of entertaining themselves, or to talk with the farmer's wife. But they did not wish the other girls, and the Steeles, to know where they went on these occasions.

Their host, who was the nicest kind of a man in every other way, seemed determined to look upon Caslon as his enemy; and Mr. Steele was ready to do anything he could to oust the old couple from their home.

”Pshaw! a man like Caslon can make a good living anywhere,” Mr. Steele declared. ”His crops just _grow_ for him. He's an A-1 farmer-I'd like to find as good a one before next year, to superintend my whole place. He's just holding out for a big price for his farm, that's all he's doing.

These hayseeds are money-mad, anyway. I haven't offered him enough for his old farm, that's all.”

Ruth doubted if this were true. The Caslon place was one of the oldest homesteads in that part of the State, and the house had been built by a Caslon. Mr. Steele could not appreciate the fact that there was a sentiment attached to the farmer's occupancy of his old home.

The Caslons had taken root here on this side-hill. The farmer and his wife were the last of the name; they had n.o.body to will it to. But they loved every acre of the farm, and the city man's money did not look good enough to them.

Ruth Fielding hungered to straighten out the tangle. She wished she might make Mr. Steele understand the old farmer's att.i.tude. Was there not, too, some way of settling the controversy in a way satisfactory to both parties?

Meanwhile the merry party of young folk at Sunrise Farm was busy every waking hour. There were picnics, and fis.h.i.+ng parties, and games, and walks, and of course riding galore, for Mr. Steele had plenty of horses.

Ruth and Helen privately worked up some interest among the girls and boys visiting the farm, in a celebration on the Fourth for the fresh air children. Ruth had learned that the farmer had purchased some cheap fireworks and the like for the entertainment of the orphans; but Ruth and her chum wanted to add to his modest preparations.

Ten dollars was raised, and Tom Cameron took charge of the fund. He was to ride into town the afternoon before the Fourth to make the purchases, but just about as he was to start, a thunderstorm came up.

Mr. Steele, who was a nervous man, forbade any riding or driving with that threatening cloud advancing over the hills. The lightning played sharply along the edges of the cloud and the thunder rolled ominously.

”You youngsters don't know what a tempest is like here in the hills,”

said Mr. Steele. ”Into the house-all of you. Take that horse and cart back to the stables, Jackson. If Tom wants to go to town, he'll have to wait until the shower is over-or go to-morrow.”

”All right, sir,” agreed young Cameron, cheerfully. ”Just as you say.”

”Are all those girls inside?” sharply demanded Mr. Steele. ”I thought I saw the flutter of a petticoat in the shrubbery yonder.”

”I'll see,” said Tom, running indoors.

Nervous Mr. Steele thought he saw somebody there behind the bushes, before he heard from Tom. It had already begun to rain in big drops, and suddenly there was a flash of lightning and a report seemingly right overhead.

The host turned up his coat collar, thrust his cap over his ears, and ran out across the lawn toward the path behind the shrubbery. It led to a summer house on the side lawn, but this was a frail shelter from such a tempest as this that was breaking over the hill.

Mr. Steele saw the flutter of a skirt ahead, and dashed along the path, the rain pelting him as he ran.

”Come back here! Come to the house, you foolish girl!” he cried, and popped into the summer house just as the clouds seemed to open above and the rain descend in a flood.

It was so dark, and Mr. Steele was so blinded for a moment, that he could scarcely see the figure of whom he was in search. Then he beheld a girl crouching in a corner, with her hands over her ears to shut out the roar of the thunder and her eyes tightly closed to shut out the lightning.

”For mercy's sake! get up and come into the house. This place will be all a-flood in a minute,” he gasped.

Suddenly, as he dragged the girl to her feet by one shoulder, he saw that she was not one of the house party at all. She was a frail, shrinking girl, in very dirty clothing, and her face and hands were scratched and dirty, too. A regular ragam.u.f.fin she appeared.

”Why-why, where did _you_ come from?” demanded Mr. Steele.

The girl only stuttered and stammered, looking at him fearfully.

”Come on! never mind who you are,” he sputtered. ”This is no place for you in this tempest. Come into the house!”