“That’s the second time you’ve saved that girl from drowning, Ruth,” he gasped. “The first time was last Fall when you and I hauled her out of the hole in the ice on Triton Lake. And now she would have gone down and stayed down if you hadn’t dived for her. Now! don’t you ever do it again!” concluded the excited lad.
Had Ruth not been so breathless she must have laughed at him; but there really was a serious side to the adventure. Mary Cox did not recover her senses until after they were aboard the steamer. Ruth was taken in hand by a stewardess, undressed and put between blankets, and her clothing dried and made presentable before the steamer docked at the head of the lake.
As Tom Cameron had said, Mary Cox had fallen through the ice early in the previous Winter, and Ruth had aided in rescuing her; The Fox had never even thanked the girl from the Red Mill for such aid. And now Ruth shrank from meeting her and being thanked on this occasion. Ruth had to admit to herself that she looked forward with less pleasure to the visit to the seashore with Heavy because Mary Cox was to be of the party. She could not like The Fox, and she really had ample reason.
The other girls ran into the room where Ruth was and reported when Mary became conscious, and how the doctor said that she would never have come up to the surface again, she had taken so much water into her lungs, had not Ruth grasped her. They had some difficulty in bringing The Fox to her senses.
“And aren’t you the brave one, Ruthie Fielding!” cried Heavy. “Why, Mary Cox owes her life to you–she actually does this time. Before, when you and Tom Cameron helped her out of the water, she acted nasty about it––”
“Hush, Jennie!” commanded Ruth. “Don’t say another word about it. If I had not jumped into the lake after Mary, somebody else would.”
“Pshaw!” cried Heavy, “you can’t get out of it that way. And I’m glad it happened. Now we shall have a nice time at Lighthouse Point, for Mary can’t be anything but fond of you, child!”
Ruth, however, had her doubts. She remained in the stateroom as long as she could after the Lanawaxa docked. When she was dressed and came out on the deck the train that took Heavy and The Fox and the Steeles and Busy Izzy home, had gone. The train to Cheslow started a few minutes later.
“Come on, Miss Heroine!” said Tom, grinning at her as she came out on the deck. “You needn’t be afraid now. Nobody will thank you. I didn’t hear her say a grateful word myself–and I bet you won’t, either!”
Helen said nothing at all about The Fox; but she looked grave. The former president of the Upedes had influenced Helen a great deal during this first year at boarding school. Had Ruth Fielding been a less patient and less faithful chum, Helen and she would have drifted apart. And perhaps an occasional sharp speech from Mercy was what had served more particularly to show Helen how she was drifting. Now the lame girl observed: