The Corner House Girls Part 15

Occasionally Uncle Rufus "threw in a word" in conversation which sounded euphonious in his own ears, but had little to do with the real meaning of his speech.

n.o.body whispered "rats" to the little girls; and Tess and Dot scarcely let Sandy and the remaining kitten out of their sight. It was a windy, storm-stricken day, and they took the mother cat and Spotty up to Aunt Sarah's room to play.

Ruth put on her rain-coat, seized an umbrella, and ventured forth. She knew she could find her way to Mr. Howbridge's office, down town, although she had never visited it before.

The lawyer was very glad to see the oldest Corner House girl, and told her so. "I am hearing some good reports of you, Miss Kenway," he said, smiling at her in his odd way, and with his keen eyes looking sharply over the high bridge of his nose, as though he were gazing deep into Ruth's mind.

"Some of these Milton people think that you girls need closer watching than you are getting. So they say. What do you think? Do you feel the need of a sterner guardian?"

"I think you are a very nice guardian," admitted Ruth, shyly. "And we are having awfully nice times up there at the old Corner House, Mr.

Howbridge. I hope we are not spending too much money?"

He put on his eyegla.s.ses again and scanned the totals of the store bills and other memoranda she had brought him. He shook his head and smiled again:

"I believe you are a born housekeeper. Of course, I knew that Mrs.

McCall wouldn't let you go far wrong. But I see no evidence of a lack of economy on your part. And now, we must see about your spending some more money, Miss Kenway."

"Oh! it seems like a lot to me," said Ruth, faintly. "And-and I must tell you something perhaps you won't like. We-we have an addition to the family."

"How's that?" he asked, in surprise.

"We-we have Uncle Rufus," explained Ruth.

"What! has that old darkey come bothering you?"

"Oh! he isn't a bother. Not at all. I thought he was too old to do much, but he is _so_ handy-and he finds so many little things to do.

And then--Why, Mr. Howbridge! it's just like home to him."

"Ha! Undoubtedly. And so he told you? Worked on your feelings? You are going to have the whole family on you, next. You will have more wages to pay out than the estate will stand."

"Dear me, sir!" cried Ruth. "Don't say that. I am not paying Uncle Rufus a penny. I told him I couldn't-until I had seen you about it, at least. And he is willing to stay anyhow-so he says."

"I don't know about that old darkey," said Mr. Howbridge, slowly. "I believe he knew more about Mr. Peter Stower's private affairs than he seemed willing to tell the time I talked to him after your Uncle Peter's death. I don't know about your keeping him there."

"Do you think he may know where Uncle Peter hid his private papers, sir?" asked Ruth, eagerly.

"Yes, I do. He's an ignorant old negro. He might get the papers into his hands, and the will might be lost forever."

"Oh, sir!" cried Ruth, earnestly, "I don't think Uncle Rufus is at all dishonest. I asked him about Uncle Peter's hiding away things. He knows what folks say about uncle's being a miser."

"Well?" said Mr. Howbridge, questioningly.

"Uncle Rufus says he knows his old master was that way. Aunt Sarah says Uncle Peter was just like a magpie-that he hid away things without any real reason for it."

"Ha! Miss Maltby was not fond of Mr. Peter Stower. They did not get along well together."

"No, sir. I fancy not. And of course, Aunt Sarah doesn't say much, anyway. She is real hurt to think that he did not leave her the house and money instead of leaving it to us," and Ruth sighed.

"Oh, he left her enough in his will to keep her in comfort for the remainder of her life. She need not be envious," said the lawyer, carelessly.

"Well," sighed Ruth, "that isn't what Aunt Sarah wanted. She feels she ought to own the house. But we can't help that, can we!"

"No. Do not worry about your Aunt Sarah's fidgets," said the lawyer, smiling once more. "But about Uncle Rufus?"

Ruth had opened her bag, and now drew forth the sc.r.a.p of paper Uncle Rufus had given her. "Who do you think wrote that, sir?" she asked Mr.

Howbridge, simply.

The moment the lawyer saw it he scowled. Staring at the paper fixedly for some moments in silence, he finally asked:

"When did the old darkey say he was given this?"

"The day before Uncle Peter died. He said the poor old gentleman couldn't talk, then, but he managed to write that line. _Is_ it Uncle Peter's handwriting?"

"It certainly is. Shaky, but plainly Mr. Stower's own hand."

"Oh, sir! let us keep Uncle Rufus, then," begged Ruth, quickly.

"But you understand, Miss Kenway, that this request, unsigned as it is, hasn't an iota of legal weight?"

"I don't care!" said Ruth.

"Why didn't the old man show it to me?"

"He was keeping it to show to the relatives of Uncle Peter who, he expected, would have the old Corner House."

"Ha! and he was afraid of the lawyer, I suppose?"

"You-you were not very sympathetic, were you?" said Ruth, slowly.

"Right! I wasn't. I could not be. I did not see my way clear to making any provision for Uncle Rufus, for I knew very well that Mr. Stower had not mentioned the old serving man in his will."

"Well-you'll let us keep him?"

"If you like. I'll see that he has a little money every month, too.

And now I must not give you much more time to-day, my dear. But I wish to put this envelope into your hand. In it you will find the amount of money which I consider wise for each of you girls to spend monthly-your allowance, I mean.

"Such dresses as you need, will be paid for separately. You will find that a charge account has been opened for you at this store," and he pa.s.sed the surprised Ruth the business card of the largest department store in town. "But buy wisely. If you spend too much, be sure you will hear from me. The monthly allowance is pin-money. Squander it as you please without accounting to me-only to your own consciences,"

and he laughed and rose to show her out of his private office.

Ruth thanked him and slipped the bulky envelope into her bag. She could not open it there, or on the street, and she hurried homeward, eager to see just what Mr. Howbridge considered a proper allowance for the Corner House Girls to "squander."

The east wind was tearing across the parade ground and the trees overhead, as Ruth started over the big common, writhed in the clutch of it. The rain came in fitful dashes. The girl sheltered herself as best she could with the umbrella.

Such gusts are hard to judge, however. Although she clung to the umbrella with both hands, one savage squall swept down upon Ruth Kenway and fairly s.n.a.t.c.hed the umbrella from her grasp. It whirled away over the wet lawn, and turned inside out!

"No use chasing _that_ thing," said Ruth, in disgust. "It's past repairing. I'll just have to face it."

She hurried on, her head bowed before the slanting rain. She came to the Willow Street crossing and glanced up at the old Corner House. Not only could she see the great, frowning front of the mansion, with its four huge pillars, but she could view, too, the side next to Willow Street.