“Not what it means to me,” he returned soberly, and rode in silence the rest of the way to the cabin.
CHAPTER XXII—RUTH HEARS SOMETHING
Ruth Fielding was particularly interested in the situation of “the hermit,” Edith Phelps’ brother. But she was not deeply enough interested in him or in his desires to give up her own expectation from the gold-bearing ledge on the ridge.
She remembered very clearly what Helen Cameron had told her about this young Royal Phelps. She had not known his name, of course, and the fact that Min Peters that day on the ridge had not explained fully what Royal’s last name was, had caused the girl some further puzzlement.
The character the tale about Edith’s brother had given that young man did not seem to fit this “hermit” either. This fellow seemed so gentlemanly and so amusing, that she could scarcely believe him the worthless character he was pictured. Yet, his presence here in the wilds, and Edith’s coming out to him so secretly, pointed to a mystery that teased the girl of the Red Mill.
When they came to the cabin door, and Royal Phelps slid carefully out of her saddle, Ruth said easily:
“I wish you’d tell me all about yourself, Mr. Phelps. I am curious—and frank to say so.”
“I don’t blame you,” he admitted, smiling suddenly again—and Ruth thought that smile the most disarming she had ever seen. Royal Phelps might have been disgraced at college, but she believed it must have been through his fun-loving disposition rather than because of any viciousness.
“I don’t blame you for feeling curiosity,” the young man repeated, seating himself gingerly in the doorway. “If I had a chair I’d offer it to you, Miss Fielding.”
“Thanks. I’ll hop on my pony. I’ll get yours for you before I go.”