“Not a very inviting place, but I guess it will do,” was Ruth’s announcement after they had looked the inn over.
The girls and Aunt Kate alighted at the steps while the young men wheeled the cars around to the sheds.
The housekeeper, who immediately announced herself as Susan Timmins, was fussily determined to see that all was as it should be in the ladies’ chambers.
“I can’t trust this gal I got to do the upstairs work,” she declared, saying it through her nose and with emphasis. “Just as sure as kin be, if ye go for to help a poor relation you air always sorry for it.”
She led the way up the main flight of stairs as she talked.
“This here gal will give me the nevergitovers, I know! She’s my own sister’s child that married a good-for-nothing and is jest like her father.”
“Bella! You Bella! Turn on the light in these rooms. Is the pitchers filled? And the beds turned down? If I find a speck of dust on this furniture I’ll nigh ’bout have the nevergitovers! That gal will drive me to my grave, she will. Bella!”
Bella appeared—a rather good looking child of fourteen or so, slim as a lath and with hungry eyes. She was dark—almost Gypsy-like. She stared at Ruth, Helen and Jennie with all the amazement of the usual yokel. But it was their dress, not themselves, Ruth saw, engaged Bella’s interest.
“When you ladies want any help, you call for Bella,” announced Miss Susan Timmins. “And if she don’t come running, you let me know, and I’ll give her her nevergitovers, now I tell ye!”
“No wonder this hotel is called ‘Drovers’ Tavern,’” said Jennie Stone. “That woman certainly is a driver—a slave driver.”