But this really was not needed, for Ruth was the soul of hospitality. Nor could she ever bear to refuse assistance to those who asked. Had Mrs. MacCall not exercised her shrewd Scotch sense in many cases, the eldest Corner House girl would have been imposed upon by those seeking charity who were quite undeserving.
Having experienced the squeeze of poverty herself, Ruth Kenway knew well what it meant. The generous provision of their guardian, Mr. Howbridge, left a wide margin of money and other means for the Corner House girls to use in a charitable way, if not enough for the automobile that Agnes so heartily craved.
When Asa Scruggs hobbled up to the big front door, leaning on Mr. Buckham on one side and on Barnabetta on the other, the door was wide open, the lamp-light shone out in a broad, cheerful beam across the verandah, and Ruth stood in the doorway to welcome the guests.
The eldest Corner House girl, like her sister, treated the poor clown and his daughter as though they were most honored visitors. Their shabby clothing, their staves, and their bundles done up in blue denim bags, were accepted by Ruth as quite a matter of course.
Visions of the police station and cells evaporated from Barnabetta’s active and suspicious brain. This was like entering a fairy castle in a dream!
She and her father stared at each other. They could not understand it. They could barely acknowledge Ruth’s pleasantly worded welcome.
“Do come right upstairs, folks,” said Agnes, fluttering down the stairway herself, with her hat and coat removed. “I’m so glad you came in, Mr. Buckham. You can help Barnabetta’s father up to his room.”
“Sure,” agreed the farmer.
“Yes,” said Ruth. “Unc’ Rufus is rheumatically inclined to-day.” Then she added to Barnabetta: “You and your father shall be in adjoining rooms. Agnes will show you the bath. And I know you can wear a frock of mine, if you will?”
Barnabetta could hardly speak. She had to swallow something that felt like a big lump in her throat. These girls, without any reason whatever, were treating her as though she were one of themselves. She knew she never would have been so kind to a stranger as they were to her father and herself.