“I allus did say you was the handiest youngun that ever was born in Darrowtown,” said the seamstress, with a sigh of relief, as Ruth, enveloped in a big apron, set to work.
Ruth did more than wash dishes, and sweep, and clean, and scrub. All the time she told Miss Pettis about her life at the Red Mill, and her life at the boarding school, and of many and various things that had happened to her since, two years before, she had gone away from Darrowtown to take up her new life with Uncle Jabez.
Not that she had not frequently written to Miss Pettis; but one cannot write the particulars that can be told when two folks are “gossiping.” Miss True Pettis had not enjoyed herself—felon and all!—so much for ages as she did that forenoon.
And she would have a long and interesting story to tell regarding “Mary Fielding’s little girl” when again she took up her work of going out by the day and bringing both her nimble needle and her nimble tongue into the homes of the busy Darrowtown housewives.
On the other hand, Miss Pettis told Ruth all the news of her old home; and although the girl from the Red Mill had no time then to call upon any other of her one-time friends—not even Patsy Hope—she finally went away feeling just as though she had met them all again. For little of value escaped Miss Pettis, and she had told it all.
The Brick Church clock was striking ten when Ruth ran around the corner and came in sight of the Darrowtown Inn. There was a crowd of girls and boys on the porch, and before it stood a great, shiny yellow coach, drawn by four sleek horses.
“Bobbins” himself—Madge Steele’s big, white-haired brother, who attended the military academy with Tom Cameron, was already on the coachman’s seat, holding the reins in most approved style. Beside him sat a man in livery, it was true; but Bob himself was going to drive the four-in-hand.
“Isn’t that scrumptious, Ruth?” demanded Belle Tingley, one of those who had arrived on the other railroad. “Where have you been all the time? Helen was worried for fear you wouldn’t get here.”
“And here’s Ralph!” exclaimed Ruth, heartily shaking hands with one of Belle’s brothers. “I’m all right. I used to live here in Darrowtown, you know, and I was making calls. And here is Isadore!”
“Oh, I say, Ruth!” exclaimed the chap in knickerbockers, who was so sharp and curious that he was always called “Busy Izzy” Phelps. “Where have you been all the time? We were going to send a searching party after you.”