RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND
CHAPTER I
THE WRECK AT APPLEGATE CROSSING
A September morning has dawned, with only a vague tang of autumn in the air. In the green old dooryard at the Red Mill, under the spreading shade trees, two girls are shelling a great basket of dried lima beans for the winter's store.
The smaller, black-haired girl begins the conversation.
"Suppose Jane Ann doesn't come, Ruth?"
"You mean on this morning train?" responded the plumper and more mature-looking girl, whose frank face was particularly attractive.
"Yes."
"Then Tom said he would go back to meet the evening train—and we'll go with him," said Ruth Fielding, with a smile. "But I could not go this morning and leave poor Aunt Alvirah all these beans to shell."