“Have you the gentleman’s card now, Miss True?” asked Ruth, eagerly.
“I s’pect so.”
“Will you find it? I know Mr. Steele is interested in the Rabys, and he can communicate with this Canadian lawyer——”
“Now! ain’t you a bright girl?” cried the spinster. “Of course!”
She at once began to hustle about, turning things out of her bureau drawers, searching the cubby holes of an old maple “secretary” that had set in the corner of the kitchen since her father’s time, discovering things which she had mislaid for years—and forgotten—but not coming upon the card in question right away.
“Of course I’ve got it,” she declared. “I never lose anything—I never throw a scrap of anything away that might come of use——”
And still she rummaged. Tom came back with the cart and Ruth had to go shopping. “But do look, Miss Pettis,” she begged, “and we’ll stop again before we go back to the farm.”
Tom and she were some time selecting a dozen timely, funny, and attractive nicknacks for the fresh airs. But they succeeded at last, and Ruth was sure the girls would be pleased with their selections.
“So much better than spending the money for noise and a powder smell,” added Ruth.
“Humph! the kids would like the noise all right,” sniffed Tom. “I heard those little chaps begging Mr. Caslon for punk and firecrackers. That old farmer was a boy himself once, and I bet he got something for them that will smell of powder, beside the little tad of fireworks he showed me.”