CHAPTER X

Homesick

IN spite of such luxuries as Ruth had never before enjoyed, and the fact that there was little restraint put upon her, she did not feel in her new home a real content.

After a week it was decided that she should not go to school, Mrs. Mayfield insisting upon a governess who could give some attention to Bertie. One was found who suited the lady but to whom Ruth took a dislike at first sight, and never thereafter did she feel comfortable when Mlle. Delarme's sharp eyes were fixed upon her. Lessons in French and music were those upon which Mademoiselle laid the most stress, the rest amounted to little.

Mademoiselle was sly and put forth her best efforts to please Mrs. Mayfield, and, consequently, made much of Bertie. Ruth, though well clothed and fed, starved for those things which she craved. She longed for her Aunt Hester's loving notice and appreciation. She sighed for Billy's bluff companionship, and she was very, very lonely. Her uncle was absorbed in business and she saw him seldom. He always gave her a kind smile when they met, asked if she were well, and if she needed anything and there the interest ended.

On several different occasions, he had given her money, telling her to spend it on whatever she liked, but she, with a wise frugality, had saved nearly every penny till her hoard amounted to nearly five dollars. At Christmas she would perhaps spend it to send home gifts to those she truly loved.

Mrs. Mayfield was fond of society and was rarely at home unless to entertain some guest. The children had their meals in the nursery with Mademoiselle, took their drives and walks with her, and although Bertie would not be kept within bounds and frequented any part of the house at will, Ruth rarely went beyond the confines of the nursery. She still had her little hall bedroom, and Mademoiselle was now given a room upon the same floor, though Ruth would have preferred her to be elsewhere.

"J'ai, tu as, il a," crooned Ruth one afternoon as she sat in the nursery, studying a lesson.

"Oh dear, I don't want to study French," she sighed. "It won't be a bit of use to me, for when I grow up I shall go back to Springdale. I may go sooner than that. None of the girls there will learn French. Well, perhaps Lucia will if she goes away to boarding-school, and perhaps Nora might. I reckon after all I'd better study it, for Nora might get ahead of me and say things to Lucia that I couldn't understand."

So she bent herself again to her task. "J'ai, tu as, il a. Nous avons, vous avez, ils ont." Her eyes wandered from her book.

She looked out of the window to where a pair of sparrows were fussing and quarreling on a twig near-by. There was little else to be seen but roofs and chimneys, a church spire in the distance and a line of fence enclosing back yards. Her eyes returned to her book.

"J'ai, tu as, il a. I think I know that. Now those horrid exercises. Why should I care anything about the brother of his aunt? It doesn't make any difference to me whether she has a gold shoe or not. French is so silly. We never talk about such things."

At this moment, she heard Bertie's hurrying step upon the stair and presently he came dancing into the room crying: "Ya! Ya! Ya! I've got it."

Ruth looked up quickly to catch sight of Bertie jumping around the room holding aloft her precious Hetty. She sprang to her feet in an instant and snatched the doll away. Bertie flew at her in a transport of rage, but she held the doll tightly though he kicked and yelled.

The commotion brought Mrs. Mayfield who chanced to be at home. "What is it, precious?" she cried as she entered the room.

"Ruth won't let me have that old doll and I'm going to get it, I am. I'll smash it all to pieces," cried Bertie, dancing up and down in a fury.

"Why don't you let him have it, Ruth?" said Mrs. Mayfield. "I'll get you a better one."

"I don't want a better one," replied Ruth, fiercely. "I don't want any but this. There isn't another like her and you couldn't get me one that would be half so dear."

"Well, I am sure you are very disobliging," said Mrs. Mayfield. "Never mind, Bertie, if you want a doll to play with mother will get you one much prettier than this."

"Don't want it. Want one to smash," cried Bertie.

"Oh, but you don't want to smash Ruth's doll, do you?" asked his mother in a coaxing tone.

"Yes, I do, I do. It's ugly and I'm going to. Make her give it to me, mamma."

"Do give it to him, Ruth," continued Mrs. Mayfield. "I will give you a much handsomer one. You shall go down-town with Mademoiselle and choose any you want."

But Ruth held steadfastly to her own. "I don't want any other and I couldn't give this away to be broken up," she said. "She's the only one of the family I have here to remind me of my home, and I can't give her up."

Whereupon, Bertie burst into screams of anger and disappointment, flinging himself upon the floor in one of his fits of temper.

"After all your uncle has done for you, I think it is a very little thing to ask," said Mrs. Mayfield in an offended way, addressing Ruth. Then meeting no response, she took a different tone. "You must give it to him, Ruth. I wish you to obey me."

"Oh, Aunt Lillie, I can't." The tears came into Ruth's eyes as she held Hetty more tightly.

"I command you," returned Mrs. Mayfield, haughtily, and then all Ruth's defiance was aroused.

"I won't," she said. Then she started for the door. "I reckon you wouldn't give your child either, to be torn to pieces by a—by a—wicked Thing," she cried as she reached the door.

She hurried up-stairs feeling that here was an occasion which did not demand obedience, yet frightened at her speech. There was not a day when she was not called upon to give up something to Bertie, to sacrifice her pleasures, her time, her possessions to his whims.

"He is younger than you," was always the plea, and Ruth, though not always with a good grace, yielded the point. But here was an issue which she felt was a different one from any that she had been called upon to meet.

"It isn't right; it isn't," she said over and over to herself as she climbed the stairs. "Aunt Hester wouldn't make me do it. I know she wouldn't. Why Aunt Hester loves Hetty and Dr. Peaslee does and Billy, and—why they would think it as bad as throwing a baby to the crocodiles like a heathen mother. I'll have to hide you, Hetty darling, like Moses in the bulrushes or like they had to hide the babies from wicked old Herod. Bertie is just like Herod, so he is. I don't love him one bit, and I am going to write to Aunt Hester, and tell her all about it. Oh, where can I hide you, my darling Hetty, so the wicked evil foe will not seek you?"

Bertie's screams still ascended from the floor below and Ruth could hear his mother trying to comfort him.

"Did that naughty Ruth tease my baby? Wouldn't she let him have the ugly old doll? Never mind, mamma will let Katie take him down-town and get him something nice. What does baby want?"

"Want Ruth's doll," persisted Bertie.

"Oh, but wouldn't you like some nice candy and a pretty toy? Let Katie dress you and take you out to get you something nice? We won't get Ruth anything, will we? She shall not go with you and Katie."

Ruth's lip curled as she heard this. "Silly talk," she murmured. She had no great respect for her Aunt Lillie.

At last Bertie was pacified and was led away by the long-suffering nurse while Ruth remained in her room.

Mademoiselle was out for the afternoon, and when she had completed the task the governess had set her to do, she would be free to do as she chose.

Bertie seldom descended upon Ruth, and indeed, she was careful to have nothing within reach of his mischievous fingers, but to-day she had left Hetty sitting upon the bed and Bertie had discovered her. It would never do to leave her anywhere in sight again, nor could she keep her where an older person than Bertie might find her. Ruth did not trust Mademoiselle, and believed if Bertie persisted in wanting the doll, as he was very likely to do, that Mademoiselle would not hesitate to find Hetty and give her into the little boy's ruthless hands.

She closed her door softly and looked around the room for a hiding-place. None seemed possible at first, but at last Ruth discovered a safe one. A small window seat had been placed before the one window. It opened and shut like a box. Between the back of this box and the wall under the window there was a space over which a small board had been placed to cover the space which was caused by a slight jutting out of the window, making an irregular opening. Ruth found that she could lift the board, shove it back in place and cover it again with the cushion of the seat. She gave Hetty a loving kiss and stowed her away in this retreat.

"You mustn't be afraid, dearest," she said. "Nothing shall hurt you. I shall not let anything smite you by day nor by night. I'll pray that the angels will watch over you just as much as if they could see you in bed with me. I shall take you out every day and lock my door so we won't be disturbed."

And she went back to her French exercises with a cheerful face. When she had completed them, she heard the clamor of Bertie's return and ran back to her room.

Her aunt treated her with cold disdain when they next met and Ruth gave her head a little defiant toss.

"If she 'spises me, I reckon I can 'spise her," she told herself, and more than ever she kept out of the way.

She had been in her aunt's rooms but seldom, though the magnificence of them charmed her. On the dressing-table were such beautiful shining things; the soft couch was piled high with wonderfully embroidered cushions, and the whole place was always redolent with some faint sweet odor. The costumes which Mrs. Mayfield wore, too, were such as Ruth thought fit for a queen. Once or twice she had seen her sweeping down the stairway in exquisite evening dress and she wondered what Nora Petty would say if she knew Ruth were living in the same house as such a fairylike being.

Although she gave a wondering admiration to all the beautiful things with which her Aunt Lillie surrounded herself, Ruth gave her aunt no affection, for she did not demand it. She treated the child with tolerance but that was all. Bertie occupied the only place which she had in her heart for children, and him she spoiled and petted till all natural good in his nature was smothered by indulgence.

Bertie did not forgot the doll in spite of the candy and the new toy with which his mother had provided him, and the very next day he climbed the stairs to the top floor bent on finding Hetty. It was sufficient for Bertie to be denied a thing for him to want it beyond anything else. He looked around the room. No doll was in sight, but on Ruth's washstand stood the little flowery mug, Billy's parting gift. Possessing himself of this, he went down to the nursery where Ruth was reciting her "J'ai, tu as, il a."

"I want Ruth's doll," he said to Mademoiselle.

"He can't have it," returned Ruth quickly.

Mademoiselle looked sharply at her. "Vy not, mees?"

"Because he only wants it to break up and I can't have her smashed all to pieces."

"I want to play wif her. Mayn't I play wif her?" whined Bertie.

"You may play wis har, of course. Go get zis doll, zis poupée but say first what is doll. It is poupée, poupée. Repeat."

"Poupée, poupée," repeated Ruth obediently.

"Say, zen to your cousin, 'I give you my doll—Je vous donne ma poupée.' Repeat."

But Ruth did not repeat. Instead she stood silent.

Mademoiselle's little eyes snapped. "Repeat, I say. At once; toute de suite. Je vous donne ma poupée."

"I can't," replied Ruth in a low tone. "I would be telling a story, because I am not going to give him my doll."

"You are not when I say?" Mademoiselle sprang to her feet. "You sall, you mees, I make you."

Ruth faced her, very pale. "What will you do?" she asked slowly.

"I punish you."

"Then I will tell my uncle and I will ask him, too, if I must give my precious doll to Bertie to break up. I will tell him all about my Hetty and I know he will not make me give her up."

"You meeserable leetle mouse, you souris which pretend so shy and meek and have the viciousness of a rat, you sall not defy me, Antoinette Delarme."

Just at this moment, Bertie entered, having taken his cause into his own hands. "You'd better give me your old doll," he threatened, holding behind him the mug which he had brought from Ruth's room. "You'd just better or you'll be sorry."

"I shall not do it," said Ruth steadily.

For answer Bertie dashed out in the hall, held aloft the mug for a moment and then flung it down over the baluster. It went crashing into a hundred bits upon the marble tiling in the hall below. Having thus spent his fury, Bertie dashed away with an impish look over his shoulder.

Ruth flew down-stairs without a word from Mademoiselle. The butler was sweeping up the broken pieces.

"Oh, Martin," said Ruth, "it is my dear little mug. Bertie got it from my room and threw it down here. Can it be mended, do you think?"

With a grim smile Martin showed the pieces.

The tears came to Ruth's eyes. "And Billy bought it for me with his own money," she said, her lips quivering at the remembrance. "Oh, Martin, please let me have one little flowery piece to keep," she said.

The man held out the dust-pan and Ruth selected a piece upon which a rose still showed entire. "I'll keep this forever," she said. "Thank you, Martin."

The man shook his head as he looked after her making her way to the upper floor. "That spoiled young un," he muttered. "I'd just like to see him get one good spanking."

Mademoiselle sat up stiff and uncompromising when Ruth returned to the nursery. "Babee," she said contemptuously, as she perceived Ruth's tears. "What is it to weep for, a leetle cheap sumpsin as zat?"

"It wasn't because I thought it was very fine," said Ruth, "but it was because Billy gave it to me. I was going to drink my milk from it at the table, but I saw it looked funny with the other things and so I kept it in my room. Bertie knew I loved it."

"He is but an infant," returned Mademoiselle, "but because he have bestowed upon you a punishment, I will not more punish you for the disobeying me except that I make you a longer lesson to-morrow. You are repeat all the verb To Have, all, all."

"Oh, Mademoiselle, it will take me every minute to learn it."

"All, all," repeated Mademoiselle with a wave of her hand as dismissing the subject.

And Ruth, with a rebellious feeling in her heart, went to her task.

She listened that evening for her uncle's latchkey, hiding herself behind the heavy curtains of the library.

As his step rang upon the tiled floor, she went to meet him.

"Well, Ruthie," he said kindly, "are you the only one at home?"

"Aunt Lillie has gone to a tea," she replied, "and I don't know where Bertie is. Uncle Sidney, do I have to give him my doll?"

"Your doll? Bertie doesn't play with dolls, does he?"

"He wants mine."

And then Ruth told him how she came into possession of Hetty, of how Henrietta had come to grief, ending with, "And there isn't another one like Hetty in all the world, Uncle Sidney. I love her so dearly."

He put his hand on her head. "No," he said, "of course, you don't have to give her up. Lillian certainly spoils that boy," he added half to himself.

Then to Ruth. "If anybody wants to interfere with your belongings, little girl, just send them to me. I'll speak to your Aunt Lillie about this."

And Ruth was going away satisfied, leaving her uncle to his newspaper and the comfort of the library fire, when he called her back. "Here are some picture papers," he said, "don't you want to look at them?"

He produced a bundle of papers, unrolled them upon the table before her, and she felt a warmth of heart at the unwonted attention.

Mrs. Mayfield coming a few minutes later, looked with surprise at the child absorbed in the pictures. Ruth was rarely seen at that hour.

Mr. Mayfield glanced up from his paper. "See here, Lillie," he said, "don't insist upon Ruth's giving up her toys to Bertie. I won't have it. You spoil that boy."

"Oh," said Mrs. Mayfield giving Ruth a little contemptuous glance, "she has been telling tales, has she?"

"She has been defending her rights," returned Mr. Mayfield, "and I don't want the occasion for it to come again."

Mrs. Mayfield raised her eyebrows. "Such a tempest in a tea-pot," she said walking out of the room.

Ruth shot her a glance from under long lashes as the trailing velvet robes disappeared, a glance that was quite as scornful as Mrs. Mayfield could summon to her own face.