Part 2 (1/2)

CHAPTER III.

RUTH RUDD.

Ruth, standing by a long wooden bench, in the neat, brick-paved yard, was engaged in watering some plants that were her especial pride.

Hearing a noise at the fence, she turned, and recognizing Flora, smiled and asked:

”Won't you come in?”

”Thank you,” replied Flora, smiling in return. ”I think I will.”

Jem looked on wonderingly as her sister and the visitor, whom she considered her especial property, chatted.

She could not understand how they knew each other. At length, as they took no notice of her, she determined to a.s.sert herself; so, going up to Flora, she demanded:

”What do you think of _my_ yard?”

”Oh,” said Flora, recollecting for what purpose they had come, ”I like it very much indeed, Jem.”

”It's a pretty good yard, I think,” said Jem, with much emphasis on the p.r.o.noun. ”Come and look at the flowers, and I'll tell you the names of them.” And she drew Flora nearer the bench.

”This is a gibonia,” she continued, pointing with her fat finger to the flower named.

”You mean a 'begonia,' don't you, Jem?” said Flora.

”Yes,” answered Jem, without changing countenance in the least, or seeming in any way abashed; ”and this is a gerangum.”

”A geranium,” corrected Flora. ”Yes, I see.”

”And this is a chipoonia,” pointing to a petunia, ”and--Oh, there's Pokey!” and breaking away in the midst of her explanations, she gave chase to a fat little gray kitten that just then scampered across the yard, and into the house.

”What a cute little girl Jem is,” said Flora to Ruth; ”is she your sister?”

”Yes, that is, she is my half-sister; her mother was not my own mother, you know.”

”Oh, she is your step-mother,” said Flora.

”She was,” corrected Ruth; ”but she has been dead ever since Jem was a little baby. My own mother died when I was quite small,” she added, with an elderly air.

”Who keeps house for you?” asked Flora, in surprise.

”I do,” replied Ruth. ”I keep house for father, and take care of Jem.

She is all the company I have.”

”What a smart girl you are. How old are you, Ruth?”

”I'm sixteen, but I feel ever so much older. You see, it is a great responsibility to have everything at home resting upon one,” and Ruth looked very wise.

”I should think so,” said Flora, thoughtfully. ”I am sixteen too.”