But Lisa shook her head, and Persis decided to give up the ride to which she had been looking forward, and to devote herself to amusing her sister.
CHAPTER XII.
LITTLE RUTH.
The fine old country house in which the party were stopping was one of those well-built, substantial affairs seldom found nowadays. One lofty-pillared porch faced the bay, another the avenue of locust-trees which led up from the highway. “It is a real, ancestral hall,” Persis had declared, delightedly, upon first acquaintance with it, and Basil found it quite up to his idea of what a house should be. Even the rambling arrangement of rooms seemed quaint and attractive, while the hostess, with her black silk apron, her jingling key basket, her lavendered chests, and her herby-smelling store-room, Annis asserted, was made to match the house.
Mrs. Chamberlaine did, indeed, represent the typical chatelaine of a by-gone period, and made them all so comfortable in the great roomy house that they congratulated themselves upon their selection of a summer stopping-place. Persis, with her housewifely instincts, took great delight in the big, queer closets, the tower-room, and the garret. The tower-room was Persis’s discovery, and she was the most enthusiastic over it. From it one could see the country for miles around, and on starlight nights could look out from one of its many windows and see the sparkling heavens as from an observatory. The way to this place was through a sort of garret, in the dim corners of which one might detect an old spinning-wheel, a jumble of antiquated hats and bonnets hanging from the rafters, or perhaps a ponderous cradle in which many a representative of the family had been rocked.
One corner of the garret, where a semicircular window made it quite light, was the playroom of Mrs. Chamberlaine’s little grand-daughter, Ruth Harrison, a grave, old-fashioned child about six years old. Her grandmother had taken her from her dying mother’s arms when she was a tiny baby, and she had lived ever since at Bellingly. Left to herself, with no playmates save a sedate yellow cat and a big old-fashioned doll by the name of Patience,—a queer, staring creature with regular black curls,—Ruth had always lived in a world of fancy; her imagination, with such slight material as a few old fairy-tales had offered, built up a realm of her own, peopled by beings half angels, half fairies. Among them was a human companion whom no one ever saw, yet who was an actual identity to the child. Callie, Ruth believed to be a little girl of her own age, and together they played strange games in the attic corner.
Since the arrival of all this houseful of strangers Ruth had felt sorely distressed, for Callie’s room, as she called it, had been given up to the guests. The child herself slept with her grandmother, and Callie could not be accommodated there. After long thought Ruth decided that Callie must have the cradle. She would not mind sleeping in the playroom, even if it were lonely there at night. Ruth would give up Patience to Callie. This was a great sacrifice, for ever since she could remember, Ruth had taken Patience to bed with her, and grandmamma had not minded, of course, for Patience had been her doll when she was a little girl. Ruth would say that Patience made her uncomfortable in this warm weather. This was not quite true, Ruth felt, but she must make the excuse to Callie, and for her sake, for somehow grandma was not fond of Callie. So, every night Patience was laid in the big cradle to be company for the invisible Callie.
Strange to say, all this was confided, not to the gentle little Annis, nor to the rollicking Persis, but to Lisa. From the first Ruth had conceived an adoring admiration for the beautiful young lady, whom she called her fairy princess, and to the eldest Miss Holmes the shy little child made her first advances, which Lisa, who loved little children, met half-way. Therefore, not even Mrs. Estabrook, nor Mrs. Brown, could win from Ruth the secrets which Lisa could, and no matter how the imperious girl conducted herself toward others, when Ruth appeared all the sweetness of her nature arose as to her ready arms Ruth ran, while on Lisa’s face appeared a tenderness which not many ever saw there.
As time went on the members of this house party became on better terms, and even Mr. Danforth was not excluded entirely from Lisa’s good graces. Persis admired him exceedingly, and chattered away to him in the most unconstrained way, while he, in turn, thoroughly liking his bright little pupil, talked to her of his ambitions, his family relations, and such like matters, just as he did to Mrs. Estabrook. He was not a handsome man, but in his clean-shaved face one could detect strong intelligence, and fearless integrity. There was an unusual sweetness in the expression of his mouth, yet his chin was firm and decided. Persis quoted him on every occasion, till Lisa said, petulantly, “I don’t see how you can make such a fuss over so commonplace an individual.”
“Commonplace!” objected Persis; “he is not; you don’t know anything about him. He is very unusual. Just think, he has helped to support his mother ever since he was fifteen, and has educated himself besides. That’s why he is down here, so he can make something during the summer. I shouldn’t wonder if he were a professor like papa, some day. He writes now for some paper, and he is just as smart as he can be.”