The Girl from Sunset Ranch Part 36

CHAPTER XXI

BREAKING THE ICE

As for Floss, Helen had already got a hold upon that young lady.

"Come on, Helen!" the younger cousin would whisper after dinner. "Come up to my room and give me a start on these lessons; will you? That's a good chap."

And often when the rest of the family thought the unwelcome visitor had retired to her room at the top of the house, she was shut in with Flossie, trying to guide the stumbling feet of that rather dull girl over the hard places in her various studies.

For Floss had soon discovered that the girl from Sunset Ranch somehow had a wonderful insight into every problem she put up to her. Nor were they all in algebra.

"I don't see how you managed to do it, 'way out there in that wild place you lived in; but you must have gone through 'most all the text-books I have," declared Flossie, once.

"Oh, I had to grab every chance there was for schooling," Helen responded, and changed the subject instantly.

Flossie thought she had a secret from her sisters, however, and she hugged it to her with much glee. She realized that Helen was by no means the ignoramus Belle and Hortense said.

"And let 'em keep on thinking it," Flossie said, to herself, with a chuckle. "I don't know what Helen has got up her sleeve; but I believe she is fooling all of us."

A long, dreary fortnight of inclement weather finally got on the nerves of Hortense. Belle could go out tramping in it, or cab-riding, or what-not.

She was athletic, and loved exercise in the open air, no matter what the weather might be. But the second sister was just like a p.u.s.s.y-cat; she loved comfort and the warm corners. However, being left alone by Belle, and n.o.body coming in to call for several days, Hortense was completely overpowered by loneliness.

She had nothing within herself to fight off nervousness and depression.

So, having caught a little, sniffly cold, she decided that she was sick and went to bed.

The Starkweather girls did not each have a maid. Mr. Starkweather could not afford that luxury. But Hortense at once requisitioned one of the housemaids to wait upon her and of course Mrs. Olstrom's very carefully-thought-out system was immediately turned topsy-turvy.

"I cannot allow you, Miss, to have the services of Maggie all day long,"

Helen heard the housekeeper announce at the door of the invalid's room.

"We are not prepared to do double work in this house. You must either speak to your father and have a nurse brought in, or wait upon yourself."

"Oh, you heartless, wicked thing!" cried Hortense. "How can you be so cruel? I couldn't wait upon myself. I want my broth. And I want my hair done. And you can see yourself how the room is all in a mess. And----"

"Maggie must do her parlor work to-day. You know that. If you want to be waited upon, Miss, get your sister to do it," concluded the housekeeper, and marched away.

"And she very well knows that Belle has gone out somewhere and Flossie is at school. I could _die_ here, and n.o.body would care," wailed Hortense.

Helen walked into the richly furnished room. Hortense was crying into her pillow. Her hair was still in two unkempt braids and she _did_ need a fresh boudoir cap and gown.

"Can I do anything to help you, 'Tense?" asked Helen, cheerfully.

"Oh, dear me--no!" exclaimed her cousin. "You're so loud and noisy. And do, _do_ call me by my proper name."

"I forgot. Sure, I'll call you anything you say," returned the Western girl, smiling at her. Meanwhile she was moving about the room, deftly putting things to rights.

"I'm going to tell father the minute he comes home!" wailed Hortense, ignoring her cousin for the time and going back to her immediate troubles.

"I am left all alone--and I'm sick--and n.o.body cares--and--and----"

"Where do you keep your caps, Hortense?" interrupted Helen. "And if you'll let me, I'll brush your hair and make it look pretty. And then you get into a fresh nightgown----"

"Oh, I couldn't sit up," moaned Hortense. "I really couldn't. I'm too weak."

"I'll show you how. Let me fix the pillows--_so!_ And _so!_ There--nothing like trying; is there? You're comfortable; aren't you?"

"We-ell----"

Helen was already manipulating the hairbrush. She did it so well, and managed to arrange Hortense's really beautiful hair so simply yet easily on her head that the latter quite approved of it--and said so--when she looked into her hand-mirror.

Then Helen got her into a chair, in a fresh robe and a pretty kimono, while she made the bed--putting on new sheets and cases for the pillows so that all should be sweet and clean. Of course, Hortense wasn't really sick--only lazy. But she thought she was sick and Helen's attentions pleased the spoiled girl.

"Why, you're not such a bad little thing, Helen," she said, dipping into a box of chocolates on the stand by her bedside. Chocolates were about all the medicine Hortense took during this "bad attack." And she was really grateful--in her way--to her cousin.

It was later on this day that Helen plucked up courage to go to her uncle and give him back the letter he had written to Fenwick Grimes.

"I did not use it, sir," she said.

"Ahem!" he said, and with evident relief. "You have thought better of it, I hope? You mean to let the matter rest where it is?"

"I have not abandoned my attempt to get at the truth--no, Uncle Starkweather."

"How foolish of you, child!" he cried.

"I do not think it is foolish. But I will try not to mix you up in my inquiries. That is why I did not use the letter."

"And you have seen Grimes?" he asked, hastily.

"Oh, yes."

"Does he know who you are?"

"Oh, yes."

"And you reached him without an introduction? I understand he is hard to approach. He is a money-lender, in a way, and he has an odd manner of never appearing to come into personal contact with his clients."

"Yes, sir. I think him odd."

"Did--did he think he could help you?"

"He thinks just as you do, sir," stated Helen, honestly. "And, then, he accused you of sending me to him at first; so I would not use your letter and so compromise you."

"Ahem!" said the gentleman, surprised that this young girl should be so circ.u.mspect. It rather startled him to discover that she was thoughtful far beyond her years. Was it possible that--somehow--she _might_ bring to light the truth regarding the unhappy difficulty that had made Prince Morrell an exile from his old home for so many years?

Once May Van Ramsden ran in to see Belle and caught Helen going through the hall on her way to her own room. It was just after luncheon, which she and Belle had eaten in a silence that could be felt. Belle would not speak to her cousin unless she was obliged to, and Helen did not see that forcing her attentions upon the other girl would do any good.