CHAPTER XI

Signed, Simon Petty

IT was a week later that Ruth was in her room with Hetty sitting before her on the window seat. The house was very still. Bertie's howls did not cleave the air. The swish, swish of Mrs. Mayfield's silken petticoats was no longer heard; even Mademoiselle's high-pitched voluble French did not pierce the silence.

"I am very glad they didn't decide to take me, Hetty," said Ruth. "I'd much rather not go. Oh my, isn't it lovely to get rid of Bertie? Don't you feel glad that you don't have to stay down in your cave? Now that I haven't those hateful verbs to learn, I shall have time to sew for you, Hetty. I've hardly dared to more than take you out to look at you for a week, for although Uncle Sidney said I was not to give you up, Bertie would have come and taken you without the asking if you were within reach."

Hetty's smiling face seemed response enough to these confidences.

"Oh, Hetty," Ruth went on, "I am so glad that Mademoiselle is to be gone three whole days. For three whole days, we shall have everything to ourselves. I can take you down to the nursery when I have my meals and it will be so cozy, almost like being at home again. I wonder what they are doing there this minute. I haven't been very lucky yet in finding a whole lot of money to take us back, have I? I wonder when I shall go."

That morning Mrs. Mayfield in sudden alarm because of a cold Bertie had taken, insisted upon bearing him away to Lakewood for a week while Mr. Mayfield should be gone upon a business trip. Mademoiselle, feeling that this was a good opportunity to take a holiday, pleaded an ill friend and would be gone for three days.

"I simply cannot be bothered with two children in a hotel," Mrs. Mayfield had said to her husband, "and I don't believe Ruth would care a particle about going."

But Ruth's uncle consulted her before he settled the matter. He sought her out and asked:

"Do you want to go to Lakewood with your Aunt Lillie and Bertie, or would you rather stay here with the servants and Mademoiselle?"

Ruth hesitated for a moment. "I'd much rather stay here," she replied, "if—"

"If what?" asked her uncle.

"If Mademoiselle were not going to be here, too."

Mr. Mayfield laughed. "That's frank at least. Well, she is not to be here all the time. She is going away for three days. I shouldn't wonder if she stretched the time longer, and there will be only Katie to look after you. Mrs. Mayfield will take Minnie with her. The cook and Martin will have the house to see to. Can you stand a whole week in such company?"

"Oh, yes, for I'll have Hetty, you know."

"I may be back in two or three days myself."

"Then I should surely like to stay."

"Bless the child," murmured Mr. Mayfield. "I think then since you do not really care to go that we will leave you here," he added.

It was certainly an easy way to arrange affairs, for Katie was steady and conscientious. She could be relied upon to take good care of the little girl, and Mr. Mayfield promised himself a free afternoon when he would take his niece to a matinee and give her a little of the attention which he felt he had been rather chary of.

The quiet house was the result of all this, and Ruth was actually less lonely than when the coming and going of visitors, whom she never saw, the bustle of entertainments in which she had no part, and the noisy clamor of Bertie stirred the household.

"I think I'll take you down in the nursery now," she said to Hetty. "It's nice and warm there where the sunshine comes in the windows. I'll begin your new frock. Think of it, I have hardly looked at my box of pieces since I came. They will remind me of home so much. I shouldn't mind pulling out the stitches from old coats or doing anything, if I could only sit by Aunt Hester and hear Billy whistling in the wood-shed. There's that striped pocket; I'll use that."

Ruth unrolled the pocket. Something hard was in the bottom of it. She drew it out. She had forgotten the little wad of paper she had put there so long before. She pulled out the crumpled mass and began to smooth out the wrinkles. Something was written on the paper. She tried to read it, but the writing was too cramped and illegible for her childish powers. She could, however, make out the signature which was in quite different handwriting. The letters, big and black, were easily read.

"S-i-m-o-n—P-e-t-t-y," she spelled out. "I wonder what this is," she exclaimed. "I remember now I found it in the lining of the old coat. I think I will ask Martin if he can read it."

She folded the paper and stowed it away in her box of pieces, then, with Hetty carefully poised on her hand and the box under her arm, she went down to the nursery where she devoted the rest of the afternoon to the making of a striped pink frock for her doll.

At five o'clock it was quite dark. The lights in the hall were lighted and Katie came to turn them on in the nursery. Later, Martin appeared with Ruth's supper on a tray. At the sight of the lonely little figure, his dignity unbent.

"Lonely here, miss, by yourself?" he said.

"Oh, I am not so lonesome as if I didn't have Hetty, but I would like another little girl to play with. I wish you were a little girl, Martin."

Martin chuckled as he set down the tray.

"I can't say I quite echo your wish, miss. Cook made you a little cake just for yourself and she said I was to tell you the cream toast was special good. Is there anything else you would care for, miss? Oysters or a bit of cold ham?"

Ruth surveyed the tempting supper prepared for her: cream toast, broiled chicken, a small pot of cocoa, a fresh sponge cake scalloped and with a hole in the middle into which hole Martin had stuck a bunch of violets. Amber jelly and some fruit completed the bill of fare. Wouldn't Billy's eyes open if he could see all this served on beautiful cut glass and china? The thought of Billy reminded Ruth of the paper she had found in the pocket.

"There is only one thing I want, Martin," she said. "I wish you would read something for me."

She brought out the piece of paper and unfolded it before Martin. He screwed up his eyes, put his head to one side and scrutinized the paper carefully, turning it over to look at the reverse side.

"I can make out the Simon Petty," said Ruth by way of encouragement.

Martin nodded. "Yes, miss, that's plain enough. 'Tain't a very good plain fist, the rest of it, but as I make out, it's a receipt signed 'Simon Petty.'"

"What's a receipt?" asked Ruth quickly.

"It's to tell that some money has been paid. This here," he pointed to the paper, "seems to say that Francis Blackberry, or some such name, has paid Petty five thousand dollars—payment in full of money advanced. It reads like that."

"Couldn't it be Francis Brackenbury? Are you sure it's Blackberry?" said Ruth eagerly.

"Come to look at it I guess it might be Brackenbury, but it's such twistified sort of writing it's hard to tell, but I guess you are right and it's Brackenbury."

"He did pay it, he did," said Ruth excitedly. "Aunt Hester said so."

"You know the parties, then? How did you happen to get hold of this?"

"I found it in an old overcoat pocket. Aunt Hester ripped up the coat and I was picking out the Indians, the stitches, you know, and I forgot and stuck this in the pocket after I found it way down in a corner of the coat between the cloth and the lining. I was going to make a frock for Hetty out of the pocket. Oh, Martin, do you suppose it is worth anything?"

Martin scratched his head. "I ain't much of a lawyer, but it might be worth keeping, or it may be an old paper that nobody cares anything about. It might save a heap of trouble in case this here Blackberry died and Simon Petty was mean enough to claim his debt."

"Not Blackberry, Martin," said Ruth reproachfully.

"Well, never mind the name. You know sometimes when a man dies there's claimants comes forward for money that's been paid, and if he's a married man and his relic ain't got any receipt to show, why it makes trouble."

"What's a relic? It has something to do with war, hasn't it?"

"There is war relics, but this kind is a man's widow, the wife he leaves behind him."

"Suppose he doesn't leave any."

"Then he has heirs, sons or daughters, maybe."

"Major Brackenbury had a daughter and she's my Aunt Hester."

"You'd better send this to her, then. It might save paying out five thousand dollars a second time."

"Is five thousand dollars much money?"

"It would buy a pretty good house in some places. But your supper is getting cold, miss."

"Oh, well, I'll eat it. Thank you ever so much, Martin, for telling me all about the receipt. Tell Maria I am much obliged for the cake; it is so brown and lovely, and thank whoever put the dear little bunch of violets in the middle. You may go now, Martin."

She spoke in the little superior way in which Mrs. Mayfield gave her orders, and Martin smiled.

"It's a little lady," he said to the cook. "She didn't forget the 'Thank you' to send you, and was as pleased as Punch at the cake and flowers. She's a high and mighty way, too, when she needs it, and that's what a lady should have."

Much as Ruth enjoyed her supper, she would have given more thought to it, if she had not been so concerned about the receipt. She would send it to Miss Hester, or—no—if she could only know whether it meant that they could really go back to the big house, or that it would give enough to Miss Hester to allow of her taking Ruth back into her home, how quickly would the child hasten there. It would be a fine opportunity just now. If only Dr. Peaslee were here for her to consult. He had told her before she left Springdale that if ever she needed advice or help to write to him.

"I'll do it," she said. "I'll write to him this very evening and get Martin to mail the letter for me."

She set to work as soon as her supper was over and managed a tolerably fair page to send to the doctor. The spelling was not so good as the handwriting, for the latter was something upon which Ruth prided herself.

"Dear Doctor," she wrote, "I found a reseat sined Simon Petty I am going to send it to you but if you are coming to the sitty soon praps I'd better keep it till you come. I am very well and so is Hetty. We had supper together and there were vilets in the cake. If you had been here, I would have given you some. Hetty sends her love to you. Your loving friend,"

"RUTH HENRIETTA BRACKENBURY."

"P. S. dont tell Aunt Hester about the reseat till we know more about it. She might be orfully disappointed if it should turn out not to be good. Wouldn't it be nice if it would get us all back in the big house."

It was rather a vague letter, but might have had its effect if the doctor had been at home when it arrived. He had gone to a convention, however, and, as he expected to return in a couple of days, he had ordered his mail to be held at home for him.

Ruth waited one, two, three days; then she took alarm. Suppose the letter had been lost. She knew such things did sometimes occur.

"I am glad I didn't send the receipt," she said to herself.

The child was growing very lonely. Her longing for love and companionship was waxing greater and greater.

There was no sign of Mr. Mayfield's immediate return. He had sent a brief note to Martin saying that he was still detained by business. Mademoiselle was lingering, making the most of her holiday and the days seemed very long to Ruth. She went to drive in state sometimes, or Katie took her for a walk, but it was cold weather to be sitting in squares where she fain would have tarried in the summertime.

And so the longing to see Aunt Hester and Billy, Lucia and Annie, Dr. Peaslee and all her well tried friends grew stronger each day. And at the end of the week, she had made her plans and had revealed them to Martin who, solemn and stiff enough in his office as butler, had nevertheless, a warm heart and did his best to cheer the loneliness of the little girl.

"How much does it cost to go to Springdale?" she asked him one afternoon.

"I don't exactly know, miss," was the reply. "But I can easy find out. I'll look it up this evening. I've got to go out before supper."

And so, when he brought up Ruth's supper to the nursery, Martin told her that a ticket would cost "a matter of four dollars."

Ruth counted out her store. "I have that much," she said, "and a little over. Oh, Martin, couldn't you put me on the train for Springdale?"

"Why, why, what's this, miss?"

"You know about that receipt. I wrote to Dr. Peaslee and he hasn't answered the letter, so I'm afraid he didn't get it, and I have been thinking how dreadful it would be if I should mail the receipt and it should get lost, so it seems to me I had better take it."

She paused a moment, then said wistfully: "And besides, Martin, I do so want to see Aunt Hester and Billy and all of them. I feel as if I couldn't stand it. You know if the receipt is all right I should go back anyhow. I don't believe any one here would miss me very much and I know they miss me there."

"Dear me, miss," said Martin, "I'm sure I should miss you mighty much."

"Thank you, Martin. You always say kind things and I wish you lived in Springdale instead of here."

"I can't say I wish that, but I shouldn't mind going there for a visit of a day. I've an old friend from England who has a shop there and I've promised to go to see him for many a long day."

"Oh, I wish you would go; I think it is very nice that you have a friend there. I wonder if I know him. What is his name, Martin?"

"John Fox, miss, and he keeps a green grocer shop."

"I think I know just who he is," said Ruth, in a pleased tone. "You see, Martin, I am really here only on a visit; I said that always, and that if ever something fine should happen I would go straight back to Aunt Hester. Maybe this receipt is just like finding money, and oh, how I should love to surprise them and be the one to take the receipt to Aunt Hester."

Martin stood with the carafe of water in his hand. He seemed to be thinking deeply.

"Do you think uncle would mind very much?" Ruth asked. "I know Aunt Lillie wouldn't, and when I 'splained about the receipt, it would be all right, wouldn't it, Martin?"

"I think so, miss. I'll have to think it over. I could get off for a couple days as well as not," he said half to himself. "James would see to things, I suppose. I'll speak to Katie when I go down," he said to Ruth. "I think perhaps Mr. Mayfield wouldn't mind if I took you there myself and brought you back."

"Oh, but—" Ruth began to say that maybe she would not come back, but she thought better of it. So she hastened to say: "I think you are as good as you can be, Martin."

In a little while Katie came up saying: "Martin tells me you and him is going on a lark. Well, I don't blame you, and I don't believe but what your uncle would like you to have a little change. What shall you want to take with you? I'll pack enough to last you for two or three days."

"I shall want to take Hetty," said Ruth.

"Of course. You'll be going to-morrow, Martin says, for Mr. Mayfield likely comes bank the first of the week."

"Oh, Katie, Katie, I am so happy. To-morrow, to-morrow I shall see them all. I want to go to bed very early so that morning will come soon."

"We'll go up and get you packed, then," said Katie, "and you'll have a good time, I'm sure. Faith, it's stupid enough for a child like you to be shut off from comrades of your own age. She'd never take the trouble to be findin' playmates foe you," she added, contemptuously.

Ruth knew well enough who the she meant, but she made no comment. What was Aunt Lillie to her now that she was to see Aunt Hester? She went to sleep and once laughed out loud because she dreamed that Stray, dressed up in Martin's livery, was taking her to see Dr. Peaslee.