Chapter 1 of Ruffles and Danny or the Responsibility of Ruffles. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ruffles and Danny or the Responsibility of Ruffles by Marjorie Watson. A dazzling stream of sunshine poured into the breakfast-room of the Sanderson home directly across the window-seat where Daniel Ross Sanderson, aged five, sat with one leg drawn up, thoughtfully gazing upon a very plump white knee protruding through a very large hole in his black stocking. The slow but unfaltering tick-tock of the grandfather clock in the far corner of the room intensified the unusual quiet, which did not seem to strike the consciousness of Mr. Sanderson, who was enjoying his cup of coffee and the morning paper in leisurely fashion. But the clear, sweet voice of the boy soon broke the stillness. Where does the cloth go to, father? he asked in a speculative tone. Mr. Sanderson laid down his paper and, with his hands in his pockets, walked over and looked down at the serious little figure, noting the fairy rainbows which the sun was making in the curly golden hair. What did you say, Danny? he inquired. A chubby forefinger slowly traced its way over the smooth skin, following the outline of the torn stocking, while Danny repeated his question. Where does the cloth go to, father? Well, er, you see, it depends somewhat on how you did it, my boy. He replied, a puzzled smile quickly losing itself in the corners of his mouth as he seated himself close to Danny's feet. He always made a point of taking Danny seriously and endeavored to give a satisfactory answer to all questions, no matter how unexpected. I don't exactly remember about doing it, mused Danny. Mr. Sanderson leaned towards Danny, resting his elbows on his knees, and looked at the stocking. You see, if you fell down and scraped it, it would be all ground up into little fine pieces, like dust, and blow away. Oh! Danny's voice and the half-comprehending expression of his big brown eyes implied implicit confidence in his father's statement, but also some doubt as to his own capacity for grasping it. It's rather unfortunate that you should have done that just now, isn't it? suggested Mr. Sanderson. You surely haven't forgotten where we are going. Danny slipped quickly to the floor, his little face alight with a wonderful smile. I know, he announced with a joyful little hop, we're going to the West Harwich water in Massachusetts! This word was not quite difficult enough for Danny, so he tucked in an extra syllable. Then, sidling up to his father and tucking his fingers inside Mr. Sanderson's collar, a funny little habit he had, he asked, Do you think there's any chickies in Massachusetts? I shouldn't wonder, but haven't you got enough chickens right here? Oh! in a scornfully explanatory tone, I mean little tiny weeny ones, about so big. The distance he measured with his chubby hands was rather vague and elastic. I poked some eggs under the old red hen this morning, he proclaimed, but she just runned away and left them. I couldn't catch the old thing, she wobbled round so fast when I stamped my foot at her.  But just here the chug-chug of an automobile with a heralding toot broke in on the conversation and Mr. Sanderson rose glancing at his watch. Sister's late this morning, she's got pretty tired yesterday with the packing. You run, find Lula, and get her to put on another pair of stockings. Be sure to be all ready when I come back, you know, to start for the train. Lifting the sturdy little figure in his arms, he gave a parting hug, then set him down and watched him scamper off in search of his nurse. As the car rolled smoothly down the avenue, Mr. Sanderson looked off toward the mountains. It was one of Colorado's wonderful days, crystal clear, when nature delights in laying on the colors with a bold and lavish hand, drying sharp contrasts of light and shadow, and the mountain seems so near that the unwary stranger is often allured by the belief that they are within easy walking distance, so sharply cut is the outline of rock and tree. Tiny, fleecy clouds were still sleeping, snugly cuddled into the hollows here and there, halfway down Pike's Peak. A meadowlark was thrilling the air with joyous melody. How strange it will seem, and how good, thought Danny's father, to breathe once more the east wind and feel the salt spray on my face. My, the very thought of it is life-giving. It will be just the thing for Ruth and Danny. This high altitude gets to be a bit of a strain after a while. Then suddenly lines of sadness appeared in the strong face. Once more he looked toward the mountains. If only their mother might have lived. He breathed. About three hours later, Ruth Sanderson stood before her mirror, adjusting a very pretty traveling hat, softly humming the while a little song of spring. Evidently her mind was more attuned to the song and all the little, bubbling, ecstatic emotions that the thought and realization of spring gives rise to, than to anything so utterly uninspiring as the reflections of a mirror. For she was really paying small attention to the charming possibilities of the hat. Coming, coming, summer's glad childhood, through cops, dell and wildwood, or hillside and glen. Softly and clearly she sang, while there came a quick, nervous rap at the door. Come in, called Ruth. Almost before the words were uttered, a tall, vigorous colored girl entered hastily. Why, Dewey, you look just a bit ruffled. What's the trouble? Oh, Miss Ruth, it's Danny again. I can't find him anywhere. The trunks have gone. Your father is coming up the street now in the auto, and it will be time to start in less than an hour. I told him to run across the lawn and say good-bye to Mrs. Harris, while I sought to the strapping of the trunks, and when I went over to get him he hadn't been there at all. What shall we do? Here Dewey, which was Danny's name for Lula, he generally had a name of his own for everybody, paused for breath. Hmm, murmured Ruth, with a sliding inflection, and a quick little upward and sidewise tilt of the chin. Really, Dewey, we should have thought to put him on a leash today. However, he can't be very far away. Tell Rose and Anna to run round the neighborhood. I'll go meet Father, and you look carefully through the house.  Ruth was turning away when Dewey, with a critical squint, stepped in front of her. Just one minute, Miss Ruth, you never can put your things on just right. Let me fix your hat a little. She rearranged the jaunty hat at a more becoming angle, stepping back to get a better effect. There, that's better! In turning away she gave a surreptitious glance at her own trim figure in Miss Ruth's chivalr glass with an expression of satisfaction. There was a real affection between these two, the young mistress and the maid who was but a few years older. Ruth had arrived at that elusive, short-lived period of illusions, high ideals, and tentative womanhood, pure, unspoiled, unenlightened to the world's method of testing the strength and endurance of real character. In other words, she was just eighteen and Dewey was twenty-one. For nearly five years they had taken most of the care of Danny, that small person ruling over and within the hearts of both, keeping them on the alert most of the time since no one could ever predict what he would do next. And now, just at that moment when all was ready for the long-talked-of trip east, Danny took it into his curly head to disappear utterly and entirely. Not that he deliberately planned this denouement, he simply did things, things that seemed to him of supreme importance. Where could he have vanished to? Dewey, filled with anxiety, started again on a hurried search for her precious charge. She was wont to say, oh, if Danny will only love me, that is all I ask. But at the same time, a discerning onlooker could easily imagine that, Danny once found, her anxiety would be poured forth in a somewhat picturesquely expressed torrent of indignation, with dire threats of future punishment for the wayward Daniel. While Dewey was occupied giving directions to Rose and Anna, who soon had all the neighbors participating in an interested search, Ruth, after putting a few finishing touches to her room, ran lightly down the wide polished stairway to meet her father. Lifting her frequent face for the customary kiss, she placed both hands in his, and, tilting on her toes with her head cocked to one side, said, Dad, you most certainly do look jolly handsome. I expect all the ladies on the train will be hinting for an introduction to my older brother. Is everything all arranged so we can leave without a care or a thought of anything here at home? I believe it is, daughter, said Mr. Sanderson, with a loving glance into the depths of shadowy blue eyes. Every single thing. We're going on a jolly, jolly good time. We'll drop all superfluous conventional luxuries and live a sweet, simple, next to nature life. Joy, won't it be great? Then a quizzical little expression flashed the dimples at the corners of her mouth. But I almost forgot. There is just one more matter still to be accomplished. Danny has gone on some sociological investigation and omitted to leave a notice in regard to the hour of his return. The whole neighborhood is organizing a round up, and I guess we'd better get busy ourselves. Thereupon she started for the open front door, and almost ran into Lula, who came in with a discouraged face. She had looked everywhere she could think of, and didn't know where to turn next. Right behind her came Rose and Anna, followed by several neighbors, all a bit warm and breathless. Mr. Sanderson greeted each arrival in the courtly manner customary to him. He stood with his watch in his hand, and rapidly asked a few leading questions as to where Danny was last seen and what he had been talking about. Suddenly a light broke over his face, and the thoughtful frown disappeared. Has anyone thought to look in the hen house? He asked. Nobody had. Then he turned to the chauffeur. James kindly put all the suitcases and wraps in the car, and have everything ready to start. Ruth, you bring Danny's coat and hat. You and Lula are all ready? Very well, then come. I think we shall find him. At breakfast this morning Danny asked me if there would be any chickens in Massachusetts, and then he expressed a very decided opinion of the old red hen which he had been trying to coax to set. With a firm, quick, assured step Mr. Sanderson started off down the drive past the stables, the whole party taking up the line of march. Lula, too impatient to walk, ran ahead. Arriving first she glanced quickly and anxiously in the door. Immediately her face spread into a broad grin. Clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter, she doubled over in a frenzy of mirth and beckoned wildly for the rest to hurry. As one after another came up and gathered in a group about the door, hastily glancing into the spacious and well-kept hen house, each face was an amusing study. Pride and uncontrollable mirth covered Lula's dark, merry face. Ruth executed a little passool, and, with an inimitable gesture of amused resignation, exclaimed, What next? Danny was found, naughty, mischievous, merry Danny. There he was, curled up, sound asleep, on a board which he had placed across one of the hen's nests, and peering from underneath was the astonished and indignant head of the old red hen. He had, as usual, taken matters into his own hands. If the old red hen wouldn't set, she must be made to. But Danny wasn't used to sitting still, so he fell asleep. Mr. Sanderson motioned to all to keep quiet. Carefully and tenderly he lifted his little son into his arms. Danny only moved a very little, a faint, adorable smile just stirred the corners of his mouth, then he settled comfortably snuggled against his father's shoulder. Quietly, but quickly, they all walked back to the house. Ruth spoke a few parting words to the neighbors, gave some last directions, with a kindly goodbye to Rose and Anna, and then got into the tonneau beside her father. Dewey had wrapped Danny's coat about him, and was already seated beside James. So off they started toward the station. Oh, my little honey! murmured old Rose, with a sniffle, as she watched the car disappear around the bend.  CHAPTER II. A heavy fog had been pouring in all day. A fine, drizzly, cold rain swept up the shore-road before the wind, and everything was wet and dejected out of doors. The festoons of moss hanging to the scrubby pines, and the wind blowing through the road, and the wind blowing through the road, and the wind blowing through the road, and the wind blowing through the road. The rain swept up the shore-road before the wind, and everything was wet and dejected out of doors. The festoons of moss hanging to the scrubby pines, dripped and dripped. Everywhere along the road, the houses, dotted here and there, were closed, with shutters up. Save one! This fine old homestead of Georgian architecture, with a fresh coat of white paint and green blinds, defied the weather. Do your best, it seemed to say. You cannot dampen my spirits. For many years I have protected and cherished the love and cheer within. Always my doors swing open to welcome those who desire entrance, and those capable of appreciating my hospitality. And always they shall find light and warmth in plenty. Straight from the door to the beautiful old gate, with its colonial posts, stretched a wide gravel path which would soon be bordered with flowers. Strangers always pause a moment before this house, and wonder, for it is not a Cape Cod type. In the large square living-room, if any one room in this house can be so distinguished from another, for each and every room inspires a desire to live in it, was a blazing log fire over which, on an old iron crane, hung a plump tea kettle, busily singing and steaming. Mrs. Frost rose from her cozy rocker, laid down her knitting, and crossed to the window, with a stately dignity characteristic of all her movements. She was thinking that the captain was gone longer than usual. Oh! she said aloud, it's the Swallows come back for the summer. Her serene and beautiful face kindled with joy as she waved her fine white handkerchief to the captain, who was opening the barn door to let the birds into their summer residence. For several years now the same pair of Swallows returned to build up a loft in the old barn, and if the barn door did not happen to be open when they arrived, they made a great fuss, swooping around and around, occasionally striking the windows of the house until the attention of someone within was gained, and their admittance accomplished. And yet, thought the dear lady, there are people who would deny that they have reason. Turning again toward the fire she addressed two huge cats, who, stretching and yawning, emerged from their warm bed in the wood basket. Do you realize, boys, that our peaceful season is nearly at an end, and soon the invasion of summer visitors will commence, and the old shore road will be alive with joyful feet? Poor Puck, your troubles will begin. She stooped to stroke the soft gray fur. Puck rose on his hind legs to meet her hand halfway, thus anticipating the caress, and came down on his forepaws like a bucking bronco. The vigorous cat was Puck. You don't approve of invasions, old pucky dear, but Peter pan now. The other cat solemnly winked one eye. He thinks it's fun. The more children the better, hey, Peter? At the opening of the door both cats, with tails erect, trotted to meet the captain as he entered, his face all aglow. Captain Frost was a very large man, hail and hearty, with weather-bronst skin and keen gray eyes. Ah, mother, you saw our little friend's return, and that means we'll soon be in the swim! Laughed the captain, as he thought how soon the deserted beach would be spotted with people who come for the sake of the fine sea bathing, where the water is so warm it's a joy to young and old. I'll just warm up a bit and then be off to the post office. We should get a letter from Mary tonight, don't you think? Asked the captain, stretching out his great length in the big-winged chair opposite mother's rocker, to warm his feet by the blaze. Oh, yes, I feel quite sure we'll hear tonight. Dear girl, how we miss her! But it wouldn't do for her to stay in this quiet place without an occasional break into a livelier pace than that we have studied down to. The gentle lady smiled across at her sixty-year-old lover and set the waves of her soft hair tripling with a deprecating shake of the head. Just so acquiesced the captain. But it's a pretty good place to come back to, hey, mother! It was with pardonable pride that he glanced at the white wainscotted walls, the soft coloring of the Turkish rugs and oriental draperies which had been picked up on his various voyages of the past and the fine old mahogany furniture. We think so, don't we, Peter? He said, gently stroking the brindled cat which had jumped to his knee. The ball of yarn on which Puck had had his eye for some time as it bobbed enticingly about in mother's lap whenever the clicking needles required more material, dropped to the floor.  Cat and ball flashed in and out among the table legs and chair legs. He curvetted and leaped, his tail arched, his eyes flashing green lights, dropping suddenly ever and a none on top of the ball and kicking vigorously with his hind legs. Laughing and scolding, the captain joined in the game, attempting to rescue the yarn, and Peter was not slow in increasing the confusion, but fortunately Puck resented the interference and gave chase to his brother. Off they bounded through the hall, up the stairs, head to tail, making as much noise as a couple of young colts. The captain, his sides shaking with laughter, commenced to follow up the trail of the yarn, winding as he went. We didn't make any mistake, mother, when we named those cats. I think Puck would make a good try at putting a girdle around about the earth in forty minutes, hey? And do you recollect the day we found Peter when he was a tiny little ball of fur playing with his own shadow and how we all said he must be called Peter Pan? There, I don't know what you're knitting, mother, but I guess it'll all come out in the wash. And he laid the ball, rather soiled and scrubby looking, in her lap. Now I'm off for the mail, having warmed up considerable. Do turn your collar up, William, and don't get gossiping with Sol Turner and stay too long, for tea will be already and waiting by the time you get back. The captain stooped his burly figure and kissed the shining white hair. Mrs. Frost blushed like a young girl, for just at that moment Eunice Pease poked her head in from the dining room. Oh, Lord, excuse me, I thought the captain had gone. Her retreat was somewhat hasty and agitated. Well, ain't they the beatenest? she said with a grin, her back to the door. Anybody'd think they was just a courton, instead of being father and mother to a gal old enough to be called a bachelor maid, whatever that is. Eunice put a hand up to cool her own hot cheek and went back to the kitchen. Your very humble and unassuming daughter salutes you. In case the meekness of my opening sentence requires accounting for, let me tell you at once that on Thursday last, a good old fashioned northeaster being rampant, I decided to brave the elephants and make a circuit of calls on some of the very dear friends of your youth, as I should be quite reasonably sure of finding them at home. Everywhere I received a most cordial welcome, but came away in each case with the impression deeply stamped on my mind that the consensus of opinion, simmered and boiled down, might be expressed after this fashion. You are very charming, my dear, but you can never hope to be as beautiful as your mother. I counseled myself on the home stretch, bracing my umbrella against the buffets of wind and rain, to the effect that the next time I have occasion to call on mother's friends, where comparisons are probable, I would better choose some sunny day and don my best bib and tucker. Dear heart, when I call to mind the fact that my delightful visit is almost at an end, don't for one minute imagine that the corners of my mouth are down, or my handkerchief damp, for happy as it has been I shall be still more happy to get back to you and dear old Dad and Puck and Peter Pan and the garden and all the friends. I shall leave on the one-thirty from Boston. Please tell Jack Tuttle I shall need his help for several days next week, as I've laid in a stock of seed, shrubs, and other things for the garden. Apropos of the getting of these supplies, just listen, and I will tell you of the day I spent down in the old Fengyal Hall Marketplace in Boston. Who do you suppose went with me and devoted a whole day to my service, playing porter, general advisor, landscape gardener, and mentor, all in one? A descendant of the great Daniel Hawthorne. He's a specimen of what Harvard can do when it tries type of young manhood. He also is of literary turn of mind, says he intends writing a novel this summer and declares most emphatically and convincingly that the heroine shall trip through the pages in my semblance. That therefore it will be necessary to study me from all points of view, to which end he means to come down on the Cape, and spend at least five minutes each day in taking pen snapshots of my personality. Now, from what I have seen of Mr. Richard Huntington, I do not anticipate appearing in the character of a second Miriam, neither as Hilda nor yet as Hepsaba, but more likely as the star part in a play called How the Seen Inf became Stranded on Manamoy, or some such imaginative unheard of full of possibilities title as that. I really think he is serious about spending the summer in our vicinity, however, as he knows the stirlings and has heard much about our summer colony. The most interesting incident of our day occurred just before lunch, when we were fortunate in witnessing a most entertaining little drama which was performed in the south station. The stage setting was realistic, the acting true in spite of the fact that there had been no reading and rehearsing of the parts. But this is how it happened, and I am still at a loss to explain the why and the wherefore. We were strolling along Summer Street in search of a certain hardware store, when we overheard someone say that General T. was leaving on a special at 115. I stopped short and looked a question at Mr. Huntington. Sure thing, said he. Let's have a look at the lion. After the knocks he's been getting lately, if he roars at all, he will roar us as gently as a sucking dove. So off we hastened to the station, which was but a block away. The crowd was pretty dense. However, thanks to Mr. Huntington's tact, quick wit, and football training, we managed to attain a good position. As we were a little ahead of time, we amused ourselves by watching the people. My attention was immediately drawn to a party of three. Indeed, no one could have seen those three without turning for a second glance. A charming girl of about eighteen, with such wonderful coloring, it made me ache for the power of an artist to reproduce it in such enduring colors that the work might go on down the ages to come, delighting future generations as it charmed me.  The color of her skin was riotous, rich brown shading to delicate pink. There was a sparkle in the whole expression of her. She wore a tailored dark blue suit with tan trimmings, a Panama hat rolled back from the face, bound with a scarf shading from blues to buff. She looked like a girl who might have lived in the saddle, and it's my impression she must have been a westerner. Holding her hand was a little chap of about five, as great a contrast to herself in looks as possible. He had a rather serious little face, oval in shape, Sir Joshua Reynolds type, with big brown eyes and short, very golden curls. Standing just back of the two was a tall, handsome colored girl dressed simply in black. I was so absorbed that I failed to notice a stir in the crowd, and the great man had almost boarded the train before Mr. Huntington, noticing my abstraction, touched me on the shoulder with a nod in the direction of the general's approach. Someone in the crowd waved a hat and cried, Three cheers for a man! Others caught the enthusiasm, and the multitude surged and cheered. Then my spinal column got thrilly, same sensation that the combination of a military band and the American flag floating to the breeze always creates you now, and silly and ridiculous as it certainly was, the tears stood in my eyes. What it is to be emotional! But then I was thinking what a pity it was that this strong, virile, purposeful leader of men should have had his head turned. However, I for one am not ready to believe that he has lost his equipoise, although he may wobble a bit now and then. When the cheering subsided, I heard a clear, childish voice calling, Wait! Oh, wait! I want to speak with you! The little curly-headed boy had slipped through an opening in the crowd too small for his sister, or so I suppose her to be, to follow.  Someone lifted him up, and with his arms outstretched towards the general, again his clear, high soprano voice called eagerly, I want to speak with you! They passed him along from man to man. The general had turned on the platform, greatly interested, and stood waiting till he could reach out and take the little chap in his arms. A hush fell over the crowd, breathless with interest. Very gently and with a loving smile the man of affairs greeted the boy. Now, my little fellow, what can I do for you?  Oh, I'm so glad! I did want to talk with you! You see, my very dear father is feeling sorry about you. He says he's so afraid you're going to do something to spoint all the people's what's been loving you so hard.  I don't think he needs to worry. I'll tell him I likes you, and I guess the men's and people's will go right on like in you. You, you want some too, don't you? It's rather nice to have people's love you, if—and he evidently decided to qualify his statement, judging from his own past experience—if they don't bother by kissing you too much. The general's face was a study. He looked as though he would like to make a speech to answer the people whose thoughts were reflected in the voice of the child, but there was no time, so he merely said, Yes, I quite agree with you. Will you tell me your name? The child straightened his back and raised his head with a proud gesture, carrying his hand to the place where his hat should be in a military salute. Danny Ross Sanderson. And where is your father? asked the general. Then the brown eyes looked round, rather startled. Hultingly he said, Father went out for a little while. I guess I'd better be going back to Ruffles. That's what it sounded like. Where is she? I was just on the point of sending Mr. Huntington to the rescue when I saw that the tall, colored girl was forcing her way through the crowd and had nearly reached the steps. Oh, here's Dewey! the boy exclaimed in a relieved tone. Goodbye, Mr.—Mr.—I can't say your name, but it's—it's all right, isn't it? Yes, Danny, it's quite all right, I believe. Then the boy in apologetic fashion said, You may kiss me if you want to. Now that's very kind of you, said the general, and I appreciate it, but being gentlemen will shake hands instead. They gravely went through the ceremony just as an official called, Board! Passing the boy to the arms of the colored girl, the general lifted his hat with a gesture of reverence, and a long, loving look at that darling baby face. The crowd cheered louder than ever. The train started, the general still on the platform with his hat raised, and the boy with one arm tied around the neck of the colored girl waved his other hand till the train was out of sight. I had looked several times to see how the charming girl was taking all this. She appeared intensely amused, and many and varied were the expressions which mirrored her thoughts and rippled one after another across her features, but not once did I get an impression of any idea of fear or worry. She seemed to be accepting the child's act from his own point of view, waiting quietly till the crowd should disperse, and she could once more get hold of the slippery little political advisor. While she was waiting, for the crowd thinned out rather slowly, a distinguished-looking gentleman joined her with an anxious look of inquiry. The girl nodded with a bubbling laugh in the direction of the boy, and evidently, for I was not near enough to catch the conversation, began an animated recital of the events of the past ten minutes. Mr. Huntington gave expression to his sentiments by a prolonged whistle, and, turning to me, said with a long breath, My word, Miss Frost, what do you know about that? Now that, my dear unsophisticated parents, is slang, and serves as an exclamation point in modern conversation. I know I wish I could claim acquaintance with those people, I replied. Who do you suppose they are? Oh, I say, can't you think of some way we could manage to be of service to them, you know? Why under the canopy didn't I forestall that colored girl and get to the boy first? Growned Mr. Huntington? But by this time they had disappeared into the waiting-room, and we couldn't very well follow them. So, with size of resignation, we decided to go and get lunch. The Sandman is getting persistent. I must leave the rest of the news till I see you on Saturday. Good night, dear father and mother. Your loving daughter, Mary. Neither the General nor Mary nor any of the witnesses to the above incident could know how many times Danny had stood by his father's knee listening to the conversation of the men in the smoking-car and grasping with a child's quick instinct that all was not well with the man he had been taught to revere. There was so little to be done by a small boy on a long railway trip in the way of amusement, and so he had thought long, and for a small boy, seriously, of the scraps of conversation he had caught. CHAPTER IV The end of the long journey came at last. Danny was very tired. The restricted area possible for physical exercise in a pulmon, for three days at a stretch, had not been adequate to the needs of Danny's legs. Even the woman with the parrot, who boarded the train at Barnstable, had pawled, no pun intended, after a while. Even Ruth announced that she felt as if she could sleep for a week without stirring. That's because we have come down from such a height, said her father. Just think we have been steadily descending from about six thousand feet to practically sea-level. This cape is about as flat as any place you could find. It will take us two or three days to get acclimated. He set Danny down on the platform of the little wooden station, which had a forlorn and deserted appearance, for they seemed to be the only arrivals. Where's the West Harwich water? demanded Danny, in an I'm in no mood to be trifled with manner. Do we snatched him up, giving him a smacking kiss? Now, little cappin', she said, soothingly. Don't be in too much of a hurry. We've got to take a little drive first. But Danny wriggled quickly to the ground, and ran toward a three-seated buckboard, which was just driving up, drawn by two good-looking horses. Springing down, the driver came forward and touched his cap. Mr. Sanderson, sir? he asked. Right, my man, agreed Mr. Sanderson. Are you to drive us to the cottage? Yes, sir, right this way, sir. Front seat, little chap. He swung Danny up to the slippery cushion, which was plenty wide enough for three grown persons, so do we clamored up also. Since the experience in the south station, do we allowed she'd give him very little rope? How about the trunks, my friend? inquired Mr. Sanderson. We'll bring them up after, after next train, sir. All right, now we're off. There was little chance for conversation as they rattled over the sandy road. It so happens that the drive from the station, until you reach the village proper, is extremely uninteresting, with only a few straggling farmhouses. Danny was quiet for a long time. He sat with his head leaning against the back of the seat, turning to look first on one side and then on the other. Finally, he said, dreamily, Do we? Well, what? asked the girl. I guess, he said slowly, That all the peoples must have gone on a picnic to the North Canyon. The driver grinned with delight and flicked the off horse with the whip. Well, if they have, smiled Dewey, they'll need all their sandwiches before they get back. You just wait, little feller, in a week or two there'll be picnic enough right here. It's early in the season yet. These horses of mine won't be quite so fat by the end of the summer. Kit, Jim, wake up, he called.  The rhythmic click-clack of the hoof beats, which quickened in response to his voice, seemed to contradict his accusation. When they came inside of the village, Ruth waked up a bit. Her father had sat with arms folded, filling his lungs with deep breaths of salt air. My, this smells good to me, he said. The wind must be right off the ocean. The driver beamed with appreciation. Well, you see, he explained, the cape so narrow that whichever way the wind blows, and it blows the heft of the time down here, it ain't fur to come across the land. As they drove through the village street, he named the points of interest, and finally they turned a corner. Now we're on the shore road, he said, to won't be long before you can see your own house. They passed a pretty stretch of pine woods on the right, and several attractive summer residences on the left, just showing through the groves of pine, carpeted with the dull red needles, and cod occasional glimpses of a tidal river. Oh, dad, exclaimed Ruth, just look at that beautiful old white house. It looks as though it was just inviting us to come in. Who lives there, driver? With a great deal of pride, the man informed Ruth that, Capon and Ms. Frost and Ms. Mary live there all year round. Ms. Mary has been off on a visit to Salem, but is calcare-latan to get back to Marrher. Pointing with his whip to a distant corner of the garden. There's the Capon now. You'll get to know them all, and there ain't any nicer folks anywheres, I don't believe. As the buck-board rattled by, the large man in the garden rose from his task among the plants, stood at his full height, and raised a wide-brimmed straw hat with a gesture of welcome. Mr. Sanderson cordially returned the salutation, and Danny waved his hand. That'll be someone for you to play with, dad, predicted Ruth. He looks as though he could reel off yarns without limit. Danny, Danny, look! She continued in a crescendo of excitement, pointing to the wide expanse of bay which now came in sight. The day was gloriously clear, the water blue and sparkling. Danny stood up, all animation. The West Harwich water, he gasped. Ruffles, it's—it's laughing, I think. Danny's own laugh was a merry gurgle of pure, unadulterated joy. Let's guess which is our house, said Ruth playfully, as they rumbled over the wooden bridge which crosses the river. Oh, I hope it's that one way out on the point in the pine grove. You're a good guesser, miss, approved the driver, for that's it. The rest of the day was full of work for all, inspecting the rooms, assigning the chambers, unpacking, getting something to eat for four hungry mortals. It was a weary little boy that Ruth finally tucked up in the small white bed in her own room which looked out across the bay to the east. Listen, Danny, she whispered, as the curly head dropped to the pillow, I think I hear a whipper will. Ask him to wait till morning, muttered a sleepy voice. In a second his breathing came soft and regular. Ruth dropped a light kiss on the rounded cheek and crept quietly down to take a turn on the piazza with dad. End of Chapter 4 Chapter 5 of Ruffles and Danny or the Responsibility of Ruffles by Marjorie Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 5 Yes, jock, we'll plant the hollyhocks right here against the south kitchen wall so Eunice can have something bright to look at when she's washing the dishes. It appears to me that's a little resky, Miss Mary, ain't it? And jock-tuttle, with a twinkle in the tail of his eye, placed himself so as to be plainly heard through the open kitchen window. Where does the risk come in? demanded Mary frost. Hollyhocks need all the sun they can get, don't they? Well, yes, but you see I warn't refer into the health of them hollyhocks, but just are wondering whether your pod want to pay Eunice for leaning her elbows on the winder sill and gazing at posies. I rather guess jock-tuttle, came a strident voice from within. That heat about his leaves pay for me for improving my artistic education as to be giving you good money for adding hot air to a mornin' already warm enough. The slamming of a tin cover on an iron kettle gave additional emphasis. Jock, you're an old tease, smiled Mary. When you get a smell of Eunice's cookies you'll wish you'd been more politic.  Huh! was all the response vouchsafed from the kitchen to this? Jock went on with his digging, and Mary sat down on the grass with her hands clasped about her knees. Her simple lavender garden dress, with its short turned back kimono sleeves, displayed her tender shapely arms. A becoming white Dutch sunbonnet shaded her clear-cut features. There was a purity and delicacy in the coloring and modeling of Mary's face, which, while not strictly beautiful, emanated a decided charm. Her life in a country village, where the different families and homes are like separate members of one large family, and where the demands for personal interest and sympathy are constant, had bred a lasting expression of tenderness and ever-ready compassion on the lovable humanness of Mary Frost's personality. Have you seen anything of the people over on the point, Jock? Nope, but I've heard a lot about them. Saul Turner thinks they're about the best thing that ever happened down there, says these aristocrats of the right sort, no snobs to them. They've hired the Tucker Barn and keep saddle-horses and a saucy-looking little pony for the kid. Nobody seems to know much about the folks that's took the cottage across the way, coming from St. Louis, I understand, and get here tomorrow. How is the Patrel coming out this year, Jock? Is she in commission yet? Yep. I put on the last coat of paint this morning, and she looks pretty, I can tell you. Jock Tuttle was skipper of a cat boat, as well as gardener, and during the summer months had his hands full taking out parties from the hotel and cottages. I know one young man that'll keep the Patrel's wings busy, said Mary. That so? Where's he going to put up, hotel, I suppose? Yes, his name is Richard Huntington, Harvard graduate, comes from Salem. You'll know him when you see him, Jock, for there's a saying that you can tell a Harvard man anywhere, but you can't tell him much. Mary rose with a little laugh. Now I'll go see how Father is getting along in the vegetable garden. The place is going to look prettier than ever this year, she said, glancing about with the delight of a true nature lover. The air was so still and warm, it seemed a mid-summer day. Back a little way from the road and hidden by thick lilac bushes, just now in full bloom, was a honeysuckle arbor where Mary's hammock was swung. It looked enticing. I believe I'll just enjoy the coolness of it a few minutes, thought Mary as she stepped in. The hammock was swung straight across the back opposite the entrance. A rustic table supplied with books was close at hand, and on either side stood comfortable hickory chairs with turkey-red cushions. There's a knack about getting into a hammock which is by no means given to everyone. There was no room for doubt, however, about Mary's comfort after she got finally settled, with two or three cushions tucked into just the right places. The hammock swung low, with one foot she gently rocked herself, dangling her son bonnet by the strings from her hand. Gazing dreamily up through the new, tender green leaves of the honeysuckle, she thought with pleasure of the future blossoms, the humming birds poisoning and darting from flower to flower, and the drowsy-drowsy hum of the bees. Very soon the son bonnet dropped to the floor, and Mary slept. Following along the bank of the river, whistling and whittling as he walked came Mr. Sanderson. By Jove I believe I'm tired, must have covered a good bit of country, getting hungry too. It's astonishing what an appetite one gets up down here. Let's see, where am I anyway? he soliloquized. Why, this must be Captain Frost's land, I should judge. Guess there's no objection to my taking a shortcut up through to the road, and I may run across the captain. Throwing away his stick and pocketing his knife, he sauntered along with an appreciative eye for all the beauties of the place. The grass seemed softer and greener here than elsewhere. It was short and even and well-capped. Catching a whiff of the fragrance from the lilacs, he looked about for the source. My, what an ideal place to rest! With a sigh of content he turned his steps in the direction of the arbor. His approach being noiseless, Mary never saw his start of surprise, and then the look of admiration which swept over his manly face followed swiftly by a sense of shame at his unintentional intrusion, nor the instinctive uncovering of his head as he backed quickly away. Thus there happened an unconscious mutual knowledge of each other's existence. Mary smiled in her sleep as she dreamed of the boy and girl in the south station. The surprise of the surrounding country was certainly opening up unexpected vistas, so he thought as he continued his walk toward the White House, nor were the surprises at an end. Rounding the corner of the house he came in sight of the wide piazza, and there, leaning against the knees of a motherly white-haired lady with all the ease of long acquaintance and intimate confidence, was his own small son. Their interest in each other appeared absorbing. Another but-in for me, I guess. Well, as Danny is ahead of me, it's not a case of where angels fear to tread anyway, so here goes. Danny's back being toward the garden he did not see his father until Mrs. Frost rose, taking him by the hand, announcing that a strange gentleman was coming up the drive. Hey, it's Father! said Danny. Run then and meet him, she urged, and invite him to come up. Have you ever had among your acquaintances or friends a woman of nearly sixty years of age who still retains the bloom and contour of youth on her cheeks, the alluring curves of the lips with an intermittent dent at their corners, a skin soft, smooth and rosy, eyes which have refused to see anything there was in the lives of others, a figure of comfortable curves and the crowning glory of snow-white hair of the texture and gloss of a baby's? Very likely not, for such are rare. Only a life of perfect optimism, love, goodwill and charity can wear this outward expression. But with my very best endeavors I can give you no adequate idea of the magnetism of the captain's wife. Danny had flown to her arms as naturally as though he had always known the comfort of their ministration. Standing at the piazza's steps, waiting to extend further hospitality with the folds of her simple black dress falling softly about her, a wide, low, white lace collar fastened with an old-fashioned amethyst pin surrounded by pearls. There was always a touch of lavender somewhere about her. She made Mr. Sanderson, in his turn, feel the grace of her presence and the charm of her welcome. Bending with old-time gallantry over her extended hand, he brushed it lightly and reverently with his lips. I was coming to ask pardon for trespassing, he said, and now I see I must beg it for two. On the contrary, I am really indebted to Danny for a very delightful half-hour, Mr. Sanderson.  I am Mrs. Frost. Will you not sit down and rest awhile? She urged, indicating an inviting lounging chair. Thank you. I have been on a long tramp. If you will pardon the dust, I shall be most happy to accept. But I very much fear Danny has run away from home. He is not allowed to go about alone. Glancing around for Danny, Mrs. Frost exclaimed, Will you look at that baby? What is he so interested in?  It's probably some bug, laughed his father. Nothing in nature escapes his notice. What have you found, Danny? asked Mrs. Frost. Danny rose in great excitement, rushing to the piazza steps. Come see my gobbie! Come see my gobbie! He said with shining eyes. What is a gobbie? Laughingly inquired Mrs. Frost. I think I'll go and see. Danny eagerly slipped his hand in hers and led her to the spot.  Danny laughed with glee and took the disagreeable-looking thing up in his hands. He's my gobbie! he announced with satisfaction. He's certainly beautiful, she said in pretended admiration, but carefully backing away from the outstretched hand. She was wishing the captain would come from the garden and wondering where Mary was. Danny, I think we are going to have some cookies and milk up on the piazza in a few minutes. Don't you want to put the gobbie under this big green leaf where he can eat his supper? And will you run to that summer house down there and see if there is a lady in it? And if you find a lady, tell her to come to me. The gobbie was carefully tucked under the leaf and the small, sturdy legs scampered on their mission. Returning to the piazza, Mrs. Frost now turned her attention to their other guest and they were soon talking happily, but Mr. Sanderson noted with speculative amusement the direction in which Danny's feet were flying. How have you managed to coax such a wonderful garden from this sandy soil? He asked with interest. Eternal vigilance on the part of Captain Frost and my daughter Mary with some outside help. Then they launched into a discussion of the relative value of soils and Mr. Sanderson explained the method of irrigation employed in Colorado. As Danny near the entrance to the arbor he began to wonder who the lady would be and his steps slackened in a growing embarrassment. Cautiously he peeped in. Seeing Mary asleep, he hesitated, started back, then took a step or two toward her. She's a pretty lady, he said to himself, and gradually he grew quite near. Then he grew courageous and gently touched her cheek. Mary's eyes opened and looked right at Danny, whose own eyes had the look of a startled deer with the same alert ready to run at any moment expression. I don't believe I can be awake, she said quietly. Am I dreaming or is this a fairy? And she smiled in a disarming manner.  It was so wonderful that this beautiful boy of her dreams should be right here in the flesh. Happily she had said just the right thing. The word fairy appealed to Danny. This lady looked as though she could play. He guessed he'd try her and see. Seizing a twig he spied near at hand, he jumped to a chair and in a high-pitched, piping little voice announced, I'm a fairy king! And what shall I be? asked Mary. Well, you're just a girl now, but I can make you anything I wants to by touching you with this wand. Oh, yes, I see. Please make me something nice. Prancing over to Mary, he waved the wand in mystic fashion over her and touching her said, Now you're a fairy girl and we must go out and dance around the flowers. Growing uneasy at the length of time Danny was gone, Mr. Sanderson and Mrs. Frost walked to the end of the piazza, which commanded a view of the arbor. Just in time to see Danny emerge with mincing steps, followed immediately by Mary, her lavender skirt held high with both hands, tripping a sort of two-step. In and out among the shrubs they circled, chanting in sing-song fashion. Looking up, Danny caught sight of the laughingly interested spectators, and his face became blank. Watching him, Mary asked what was the matter. Mrs. Frost picked up a megaphone lying on the table nearby and called out, When the masquerade is over, refreshments will be served on the piazza. Mary's skirts dropped hastily, a rosy flush suffused her face, and she and Danny looked guiltily at each other. Is that your father, dear? She asked, trying to arrange the loosened strands of her hair. Yes, let's go get some cookies! He suggested, slipping his hand in hers. There was nothing to do but to assume a dignified ease she was far from feeling, and be presented, all disheveled as she was, not at all realizing that the exercise, the embarrassment, and the stray locks made her appear much younger than she really was. In response to her mother's introductions, Mary's hand clasp of welcome was a firm one, and there was a mute exchange of apology and understanding as their eyes met. I hope you will allow Danny to come and play fairies with me very often, laughed Mary. I expect I shall have to make it a business to see that you are not imposed upon after this, but it looks to me as though there was a day of judgment coming for Danny. And Mr. Sanderson called attention to a cloud of dust on the other side of the river, out of which emerged a horse and rider, who clattered at breakneck speed over the wooden bridge. Seizing the megaphone, he gave a loud cow, which so surprised Ruth, that she nearly pulled the mare on her haunches. Looking in the direction of the cow, she saw the group on the piazza and came on at a reasonable pace, entering the drive at a walk. Throwing the reins on the neck of the fine animal, she folded her arms with a prittly assumed air of displeasure and addressed her father. Dad, when you and Danny are going to a party, it will avoid confusion if you will kindly announce the fact. Mary ran down the steps extending both hands. We are so glad you've come, she said. Please jump down and we'll have a real truly party. But you mustn't scold Danny. I know you are Danny's sister. I've seen you before.  Just let mother make you comfortable while I lead the horse to the barn and find father, and then we'll be complete. No, Mr. Sanderson, please. It's a pleasure. But he insisted on leading the horse. If you like to come and see that I put her in the right place, he conceded, Bonnie will appreciate it. They walked out to the barn with Bonnie's beautiful head between them, her soft, velvety muzzle rubbing Mary's hand ingratiatingly, for with an animal's quick and sure instinct the mare responded to the keen appreciation of this new friend. CHAPTER VII The architect was very canny when he planned this fine old house. The long, deep piazza, which was really a summer living-room, instead of being built out from the house was built in between two ales, so that it was protected from the wind on three sides, and so it was possible to serve tea here very comfortably, especially as the screening was fine enough to keep out those irritating little black midges which sometimes are bothersome, as well as mosquitoes. No matter where one sat in this cozy, roomy retreat, there was sure to be a small table nearby covered with dainty white linen on which to rest cup and saucer or plate. But the wide piazza rail looked enticing to Ruth. It could easily serve as chair and table at the same time. Leaning easily with her back against a pillar, swinging one foot after the manner of a boy, her riding skirt and tan-colored sweater revealed the perfect lines of her figure, and a close-fitting cap sat jauntily on the saucy, tip-tilted head. A little flick of amusement glinted in Mr. Sanderson's eyes as Mary slipped into a corner of the Gloucester hammock. It was very evident she was partial to hammocks. Eunice brought out plates of thin sandwiches and wafer cookies, placed them about on the tables, passed a tray bearing dainty cups of tea and glasses of rich milk, and was now devoting herself to Danny, who sat at a tiny table over in a corner, a napkin tucked under his chin, his attention divided between his glass of milk and Peter Pan, who was rubbing back and forth against Danny's legs, making friends in his soft, subtle way. Peter was afraid of nothing, never having been ill-treated. And dear Mrs. Frost was entertaining this youngest guest with stories of Peter and Puck, while she gently rocked back and forth in the old-fashioned, high-backed chair. Now, dearie, have another cookie, urged Eunice, enraptured by Danny's beauty and winning ways. Ruth had kept a watchful eye on their corner of the piazza and presently shook her head slowly, questioning the wisdom of a surfeit of good things. If I don't interfere soon, she remarked, Eunice will certainly have Danny at bursting point. Oh no, these cookies can't hurt him. Besides, he's not eating so very much. He's so busy making love to Peter. Miss Sanderson, I think Danny's the dearest thing that ever happened," said Mary. Ruth laughed. I was just thinking practically the same thing about your mother, she replied. Then added, Yes, Danny is a darling, but he'll give you a few surprises before the summer's over. Won't he, Dad? Mr. Sanderson glensed over at Danny, whose nose at that moment was buried deep in the glass of milk, which he finally set down with a gasp for breath. It's certainly difficult to conceive how anyone can look so angelic, so serious, so... so quiescent as Danny, and yet get into so many different kinds of mischief. His inquisitive little brain is never at rest except when he sleeps, and his determination to get at the bottom of things gets him into all sorts of trouble. How did he stand the long journey from the West? asked Captain Frost. Pretty well on the whole, he got acquainted with everybody on the train from the porters up to a queer, bright little old lady who was traveling alone all the way from California. Said Mr. Sanderson, rising to pass Mary more sandwiches. I should say he did, chuckled Ruth reminiscently. One morning, she continued, I began to think there must be something to matter with him. I got quite worried.  I had hard work to get him to eat his breakfast.  Never get up till the last call. But Danny's always up with the birds, and I left it to Lula to keep track of him. I was really afraid something had happened. Finally I said, Danny, whatever is the matter with you, have you got a toothache? What makes you hold on to your mouth all the time? Do you feel sick? No ruffles, he mumbled. I don't feel sick, but I don't want to lose mine teeth. Lose your teeth? I exclaimed in astonishment. What idea have you got in your head now? Well, I thought the porter who was standing nearby was having a spasm. In reply to my glance of inquiry he sputtered out, Oh Lord, Miss, he—he— and off he goes again into another convulsion. After a while he managed to tell me, on the installment plan, with lesser attacks of mirth in between, that the little old lady in number ten, Miss, while she was gone to the toilet room, I make up her berth, so as to have it already, Miss, when she come back this morning. But after a while she ring for me furious like, and when I come hustling along she hollers out, so is Mars Danny and anyone else can hear. Where's my teeth? she says. I sure I don't know, ma'am, says I. I left them in my pillar case, she says, while I go from my bath. Where's the pillar case? she asked. Then took them all off to the laundry-box, says I. Take me to the laundry-box quick, she screams.  Oh Lord, Miss, he's afraid his teeth will come out. So then I had to have a heart-to-heart talk with Danny. Did the little lady find her teeth? Laughingly asked Mary. Yes, she did. You never know what you are going to run up against in a Pullman's sleeper. But she was the brightest, smartest, little grass-hoppery old lady you ever saw, and she entertained all our fellow passengers, as well as Danny. Well, said the captain, moving his big body restlessly, as though the very thought of the confinement of a Pullman car was irksome. I've cruised pretty much all over the world, but I reckon I'll never get far inland. I couldn't breathe in one of those boxes. If I ever have occasion, Miss Ruth, he said with a wink, to go to your part of the country, it'll have to be in a prairie schooner. Are there any to be found nowadays? Oh, sure, there are still a few families left with a roving spirit, and they live in them. You might fit one up with a motor, but what's the matter with an airship? That's more in your line, and you'd stand a better chance of arriving in the same generation, wouldn't you? The captain shook his head. No, Miss Ruth, would never do. I should miss the swells. You might meet some of the more exclusive ones up among the clouds, said Ruth facetiously. You know, an airship offers grand opportunities to escape from the common herd. Or you could take a few whitecaps along with you for the sake of all the langzine, suggested Mr. Sanderson. No use, and Mary simulated a sigh. Father couldn't get along without a crew. Oh, a rooster could supply that need. This was a little too much, and Ruth had to dodge the pillow her father let fly. I'll take her home before she disgraces me any further, he announced, rising and crossing over to bid goodbye to his hostess and get hold of Danny's hand. By the way, said the captain to Ruth, are you skipper of that fine craft out in the stables? Guilty, she said, raising one hand. Will you ride her some day, captain? Only be sure to let me know in time to reverse the saddle. Now, what do you mean by that? You don't ride side saddle? No, but you see, in order to feel quite at home, you'd have to ride backwards, for the steering gear is all in the bow. Ruth broke into a merry laugh, lightly vaulted the piazza rail and ran to the stables. The captain watched her flying feet with beaming face, and then he turned to grasp Mr. Sanderson's hand. Do let those children run in whenever and just as often as they like. They're as good as an east wind on a hot, sultry day. All right, captain, I'll give them carte blanche, only if you get too much of them just let out a gentle hint. Danny was put up in front of Ruth, and after Mrs. Frost had fed Bonnie a lump of sugar and appreciation of the pleasant ending to the day had been expressed by all the guests, Ruth urged Bonnie close up to the rail where Mrs. Frost stood, and, leaning over, kissed her cheek. There's only one thing that puzzles me and of which I don't quite approve, she said. And that is, asked Mrs. Frost. Why, your name doesn't seem to fit at all. It was a bewitching smile that Ruth cast over her shoulder as she turned Bonnie's head toward home, Mr. Sanderson having already started.  The summer begins well, mother, she said. Through the same playful little struggle, Danny would come with flying feet to the kitchen, all fresh and rosy from his bath, calling, Dewey, Dewey, I want my juices! I'll write, little Capon, but give Dewey one great big one first. This was said in a weatling tone. No, Dewey, I want my juices! And Danny would stand on the defensive. Just one great big one, little Capon, determination and assurance manifest in her voice, then followed a scamper and a chase with giggles from Danny and swoops and shrieks from Dewey. It always ended in the capture of Danny, quite frequently by the seat of his knickerbockers, and the one great big one was taken right in Danny's neck just under his shining, clinging curls. Danny would stamp his little foot as soon as he could get control of that member and managed to hit the floor with it and exclaim, I'm mad of you, Dewey, and I don't love you any more. But he had to refute this statement, which he was always ready to do with a radiant smile before he got the orange juice and was at liberty to run out and play with his express cart until Father and Ruffles returned from their early morning dip. As the cottage was almost hidden by a grove of pine trees and the last one on the point of land running out to separate the bay on the left from the tidal river, which runs by on the right, the seclusion made it possible to slip right into a bathing suit and take a plunge before dressing for breakfast, and Ruth and her father thoroughly enjoyed this early morning bath. It had been a part of the summer plan that they were to live a very simple life. So Dewey, who was a fine cook, had agreed to do the greater part of the housework with Ruth's help in the way of making beds and dusting. James would arrive soon with the automobile and he would manage the heavier work. Now, Dad, said Ruth at the breakfast table the morning after their pleasant introduction to the frost household, we must lay out a sort of schedule for the day. Of course we needn't stick to the letter of the law but just have a general idea of where we're at. After breakfast I'll have to be busy for about an hour. Sort of queer, isn't it? Casting a side-long glance at her father and wrinkling her saucy nose just a trifle.  Then we'll go for a ride. Did you discover any nice bridal paths yesterday? I discovered a good deal yesterday, replied her father, buttering one of Dewey's delicious breakfast rolls with unusual precision and care, a light in his eyes which was a half a twinkle and half a thoughtful introspection. Yes, I found an ideal road for Danny and Chrysanthemum. We'll go there this morning. You remember the woods just opposite Captain Frost's? We turn off the road about there. The Captain tells me it is perfectly safe for anyone to wander all about these woods. Chrysanthemum, in case you haven't grasped the fact, is Danny's shaggy little pony. Kiss him is what Danny calls him. Until James arrives, Mr. Sanderson continued, we'll have to take Danny a short ride first and then give Farmer Boy and Bonnie a scamper later. Ruth nodded. We must rent two bathhouses over on the beach, father. It will be more fun for Danny to go in over there with other children. Hadn't you and Danny better attend to that this morning while I am busy? Then after our ride, we'll take Danny in for his bath. That disposes of the morning pretty well and in the afternoon after Danny's nap we'll motor all over the Cape. How's that? Sounds all right to me. I think we'll have to tack a sign up over the gateway or over the entrance to the house as a sort of name for the cottage and call it seldom in. Joy, just the thing! laughed Ruth. I'll ask Miss Frost whom I can get to make a rustic sign. It doesn't sound particularly hospitable, but social calls should be tabooed in summer anyway and of course our friends will understand. It's so suggestive. Turning to the youngest member of the family who was entirely absorbed in the business of breakfast, she said, Don't talk so much, Danny Kins! Danny's spoon was arrested half way between his mouth and his bowl of cereal just long enough for his pearly teeth to gleam in a smile at his sister and then continued to its destination. His concentrative power was well developed whether it was dropped eggs or gobbies under consideration. You won't find the word gobbie in the dictionary. Danny found it somewhere, but nobody knows where. By nine o'clock they were all in the saddle. When Chrysanthemum led the way, Farmer Boy and Bonnie understood what was expected of them. That considerable restraint must be put on lively animal spirits in order to adapt their pace to chissums. They always behaved remarkably well with only a side step or two now and then, an arching of the neck and a playful pretense at shying just to vary the monotony.  No bless so oblige is as much an instinct with fine animals as with men. Hello! exclaimed Mr. Sanderson. The house opposite the frosts is open. Somebody else has arrived. Several somebodies I should say, commented Ruth, the place would be an object lessened to bees. Can it all be one family? Two large tents were in process of erection at the rear of the house. Two young ladies were arranging Navajo rugs, chairs, couches, and tables on the porch. Two girl children were running about in the acre of meadow grass surrounding the house, while two of the windows showed signs of life within. Arithmetic must be taking a summer vacation also, for two and two failed to make for this morning. Let's turn in at the frosts and find out who they are. But Ruth's suggestion was unnecessary for Danny had spied the captain through the barn door, and chrysanthemum was already kicking up the dust of the frosts' driveway. The blood of the revolutionary ancestor, for whom Danny was named, was especially assertive when stirred by the motion of the saddle, and his military bearing and salute, as he pulled up within a few feet of the captain's smile, was something to see. Hello, hello! the hearty voice called out. Here's a new member of the family. What's his name?   He kicks sometimes. His name's Kissam. Kissam? Well now, I shouldn't mind. He looks worthy of the demonstration. Good morning, Mr. Sanderson. Good morning, Miss Ruth. I expect now, Miss Ruth, you're on your way to the village to buy your fish-basket. Ruth was quick to catch the fun in the captain's eye. Am I? And what shall I do with it when I get it? Turning, the captain pointed to a small group of fish-houses down by the river side. Every morning, or nearly every morning, he said in his slow, hearty, well-rounded enunciation, the boats come in with fresh fish, and when they are cleaned and ready for sale, the American flag is run up on that flag pole. So whenever you see the flag flying down there, you will know it's best to get down early with your basket if you want a good selection for dinner. Ruth's blue eyes snapped with fun and amusement. She wheeled Bonnie right about as though to lose no time. How large a basket, and where do I get it? she demanded. Oh, I forgot. You haven't been down to our department store yet. Well, there's only one, and you can't miss it. You'll find most anything you want from grandmother's cookies to the latest thing in hair puffs. But the hair puffs are separated from the cookies by brass buttons, and the cookies are under glass. The dry girls keep the store. They'll be mighty glad to see you. If you go through the woods, you may meet Mary. She went to the post office. Mr. Sanderson asked the captain if he knew who the people were across the road. Mother has gone over to see if we can lend a helping hand. I believe their name is Perry. They're youngish people, and they have two little children. Then there's Mrs. Perry's sisters and a maid. It looks like we'll have a nice lot of young people here this year. The Stirlings are coming to-morrow. They live up the road a bit toward the beach. Danny was edging toward the road. He didn't see Peter about anywhere, and the conversation was not particularly enlivening. He guided Chrysanthemum over to the fence where the youngest child was clinging with tiny hands to the top rail, just the mischievous shining black eyes and the head of a teddy bear which was clutched under one arm showing above the fence rail. Danny rode quite close. They looked at each other solemnly, as children do. Standing back a little way under a willow tree, one hand twisted in the hem of her dress, and the head lowered, shyly watching from a safe distance, the other child, a diminutive, dainty little lady, looked from soft brown eyes. Where do you live? inquired Miss Bright Eyes. Crawlerado! announced Danny. The black eyes sparkled, and the corners of a rosebud mouth were pulled slightly down and in, only saying they hoped the boy didn't catch on to the fact that their owner understood not at all. I've got a sandpile, she said. Come in and play. Can't! Upstairs behind the muslin curtains, one sweet studious face and one round, roly-poly one, were interestedly watching the meeting. Oh-hoo! called Ruth as she and her father started for the woods. Kiss'em scampered. What a stunning man! said roly-poly. What a beautiful girl! said the studious one. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Of Ruffles and Danny or the Responsibility of Ruffles by Marjorie Watson This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 9 The bridal path was wide. The sun splashed down through the pine trees, now lighting with a dazzle the gold of Danny's uncovered hair, now touching with a caress the boyish pucker of Ruth's mouth as she whistled softly, answering the bird calls from the fluttering, feathered, busy little nest-builders, who so cunningly shielded themselves from view and yet surprised you with a clear, rollicking warble close at hand, and again bringing out forcibly the strong, clear-cut profile of Mr. Sanderson's splendid head. Every now and then the presence of some wild thing was made known by the rustling of last year's leaves, likely a rabbit. Ruth remarked how queer it was to find sand everywhere, even mixed with pine needles in the midst of the woods. The woods on the cape are not like those on the north shore. The trees do not grow to great size, and the wide paths often stretch in several directions, showing vistas of light and shadow with patches of blue sky, and the sand of the pathways glistening white. Suddenly, from out the distance of the road on which they were, a woman came running in great haste. Mr.  Then, at a word, Farmer Boy sprang forward. My dear Miss Frost, something has happened. Can I help?" Mr. Sanderson put strength, encouragement, and comfort in his voice as he sprang to the ground. "'It is fire on the edge of the wood,' she said between her panting breaths. I was going for more help. There are only two men to fight it.' "'Ruth,' said her father, right quickly back to the captain, tell him there is fire, show him the direction, and he will know what to do.' Ruth and Bonnie were off like a whirlwind. Then of Mary, he asked, looking searchingly in her eyes, would you have any fear in mounting Farmer Boy?' "'No, indeed,' she replied with confidence. But, looking at her skirt in confusion, how can I?' "'Quickly, please,' he urged, and taking her hand he placed it to grasp the saddle. Then he made a stirrup of his hands for her foot, and she was up, her skirt deftly and carefully arranged before she had time to draw back. "'Farmer Boy is perfectly gentle. Will you see Danny safely home?' he asked, placing the reins in her hand with just a lingering touch of transmitted strength as his own closed over it for a second. "'And you?' she inquired. "'Shall I have any difficulty in finding the place?' "'Follow this path and take the first turn to the left.' "'I wants to go, too,' pleaded Danny, as his father was turning away. "'Little son, we couldn't leave the lady to ride alone when there is danger. Will you take my place and see that no harm comes to her?' Danny threw out his little chest and brought chrysanthemum alongside of Farmer Boy. "'Don't be afraid,' he said in a reassuring tone, looking up at Mary so far above him. "'I won't let anything hurt you!' And the sweetness and manly bravery of the baby face made Mary long to snatch him to her arms, for there was a wistfulness in it, too, as he watched his father's clean, swinging motion, as he ran swiftly away. Mary's heart was stirred with a variety of emotions. She had ridden before and was not afraid, but the fire, the worst menace the natives have to dread. There is so little to fight it with. The man who had just left her seemed strong enough to cope with anything, a masterful man. And she looked at her hand. She felt a feminine satisfaction in the knowledge that her ankles were slim and shapely, and she hoped she'd not meet anyone she knew, for no situation in the minds of the residents would warrant her riding a man's saddle in an ordinary dress-skirt. She was sure of that. Presently she was startled from her thoughts by a loud whinny from Farmer Boy as Ruth came into view, riding free and clutching an axe and a spade. Mary and Danny had just time to pull aside as Bonnie tore past. This made Farmer Boy a little restive. There was some excitement in the wind, and why should he, a horse of spirit, have to amble tamely away from any deed of daring? There followed several men running with brooms and more axes and spades, and finally the captain, who was too large a man to run. The fire had gained considerable headway when Mr. Sanderson reached the spot, and he saw that not much could be accomplished till more help came. But he tore off his coat and wrenched a branch from a tree to beat the flames, and he worked hard and fast. When Ruth came riding up he seized the axe and spade, casting her a look of love and pride. Right to the village and send more men, dear! There was no time for caution. Ruth was turning sharp curves from path to path in reckless fashion. The soft sand deadened the hoofbeats, and it was a very undignified leap that a tall young man had to take as she swerved round, unexpectedly breaking in upon his meditations and landing him in the blueberry bushes. Ruth herself almost lost her seat, for Bonnie shared the surprise. Steady girl, steady, quiet, Bonnie, we must go back and apologize. Her cheeks which were red before were glowing now, and her hair had escaped from the band of ribbon and was dancing in the wind. The young man still sat where he landed, hugging his knees and watching, with sang Freud, this wild rider, get control of her steed. Riding slowly back, Ruth bent over to hide her laughter, pretending to fix her stirrup. Oh, he did look so funny, she whispered to Bonnie. Allowed she said, I do hope you are not hurt, we trust you will pardon us. No indeed, that is to say, certainly, I mean, I am not hurt and there's nothing to pardon. It was just a bit sudden, that's all. He picked himself up, flicking the clinging leaves from his trousers with his hand kerchief. Then, looking up at Ruth with a quizzical smile, he went on. But I'll attend to the villain when he comes along, I assume there is one pursuing you, or are you just playing at Arathusa? He had entirely recovered his nonchalance, and was wondering, as he recognized Ruth's rare beauty, where he had seen her before. Excuse me for asking, he said, but do you always ride like that? A merry peel of laughter echoed through the woods, but it was cut short with the memory of her errand. Then she surprised him a second time by riding off at a gallop, calling back over her shoulder. The woods are on fire. She pointed to her left. They need your help. He stood with his feet wide apart, his hat in one hand smoothing his back hair with the other, and apostrophized the woods. That will do for a beginning, one shock at a time, please. Hmm, now for the fire. He pulled himself together and started off at a jog trot. Richard Huntington had left the buck-board to carry his baggage on to the hotel, and had elected to find his way through the quiet of the woods. Nice drowsy little place this, and his grin had a fine touch of subtle humor. Ruth called into service every man she met who could possibly leave whatever he happened to be doing at the moment. She inspired the laziest with energy. She animated the most negligent with an unwonted interest in the common good. Such is the great influence of youthful beauty and vitality that men flew to do her bidding. They all knew what was needed. It wasn't the first time they had been called upon for a similar service. When Richard reached the spot, all those who had been first summoned were working with a will, and none stopped to question, even in thought, who the strange, broad-shouldered athlete might be, when he slipped into the place where the need of fierce struggle was most urgent. The captain took command of the forces, and as new volunteers appeared, he called out orders in a voice which could be heard above the crackling of the burning branches and the blows of shovel, spade, or axe. He did his utmost to get the fire circled. Passing a spade to Richard, he commanded him to shovel sand on the creeping ground fire. The captain looked anxiously toward a little house on the edge of the wood, not far from the fiercest heat. The wind was blowing in that direction, and he concentrated all his strength now to save that little house, if possible, for the danger was imminent. Oh, for a good stream of water! Growned Richard, exasperated by the inadequacy of his efforts to smother the flames, although he was doing excellent work, his shovel loading and unloading with quick regularity. After a while he stopped a second or two to straighten his back and relax his muscles, thereby conserving his strength. His glance was arrested by the sight of two women standing with clasped hands close to the little house, as though they would protect it with their lives, tall, gaunt, and wide-eyed, undoubtedly paralyzed by fright and overcome by the impending calamity which threatened them. Jove, the pathos of it! When a man battles with the elements he's up against it. So muttering, Richard was bending again with renewed determination when he saw a horse and rider dash round from the rear of the house. A girl spring to the ground, tether the horse out of danger, rush up to the two women, and then, in a minute, all three turned toward the house. That's all right, and just in the nick of time, commented Richard, there are some compensations even for the worst that may happen. At times it looked as though the men might win when the wind died down for a short while, and then the hungry flames would leap higher than ever, rushing, reaching, and grasping for the next tree victim. Ruth's heart was filled with pity at the sight of the thin, hopeless faces of the women, but she was a child of action, and her youth was undaunted. Come, she cried, you must be on the safe side and get all the things you can from the house to that clearing over there, and I'll help you, come! Slowly and in a daze the women followed Ruth into the house. Now then, pick out the most important things first. Where shall we begin? Here's a nice old, rush-bottomed chair. I'll take that out while you're getting things together." Why, child? exclaimed the older of the two. That there cheers as old as the hills. I don't ever remember the time when we didn't have it. Grant there's Simpkins allers set to the table in that cheer. Yes, of course, said Ruth breezily. I'll save it, first of all. She picked up the chair and was off out of the door toward the clearing before the astonished women could offer a suggestion. Well, I declare, Sarah, she's a real pretty bright-looking girl, but don't seems though she can have much sense. You stay right here and tell her what to take next. Yes, Susan, I'll give her this pair of pink vases that we got down to the fair at Barnstable two years ago soon she comes back. The one addressed as Susan picked up a gaudy red-plush rocker and staggered out through the door with it. When Ruth came running back, Sarah handed out the pink vases. Oh, but haven't you got some valuable papers and things? She asked. Why, that's so. Here, wait a minute. Ruth watched her disappear through a door, then she held the impossible pink vases at arm's length. Poor things! She said under her breath, and it is not unreasonable to question whether she referred to the vases or the women. She took an impatient step or two toward the door, through which she now heard returning footsteps, but started back as Sarah emerged with a step ladder. Just a minute, dear, I'm so glad you reminded me of it. And Sarah proceeded to place the step ladder close to the wall, mounted, and removed a framed document. There, dear, it's mother's marriage certificate. Now you run along with those. Just here Ruth made up her mind that something desperate must be done if anything really worthwhile was to be saved. She ran to the door and exclaimed in a horrified voice that the flames were getting very near. I think, she said, that we'll all have to take right hold and carry things as fast we can. Here, you take these, and I'll get something else. She gently urged the poor frightened woman toward the door. Then she ran hurriedly through the rooms, took sheets and blankets from the beds, and spread them on the floor, removed clothing from the closets, and added any light articles that could be thrown in with them, made a bundle, and tied it up. She surprised Susan very much by meeting her at the door and telling her to carry that out, which Susan meekly proceeded to do. Laura sakes, what you got there? Asked her sister in passing.  I don't know, but you better go right along, and maybe you can tell better than I what you are getting next. Ruth had now dominated the situation. Somehow she managed to meet the sisters each time at the door until she decided it didn't much matter what came next, and then she herself began to remove such articles of furniture as her young strength could manage. At last all was done that seemed feasible. The sisters looked at their belongings heaped up and bundled together there in the open field. Then their gaze wandered back to the little house. They saw one of the men rush toward it, and—was that?—yes, a tiny flame creeping along the edge of the roof was now plainly visible. The older sister sank with a sob in the nearest chair, and Susan fell on her knees, burying her head in Sarah's lap. Sadly Ruth turned her back, hesitated, and then slowly walked to where Bonnie was tied, and mounted. Tread softly, Bonnie, there are hearts in trouble. We've done all we can now, old girl, but Captain Frost will know what is best to do next. If only the little house had had the sense to stand on the farther side of the road, which skirts the edge of the wood, instead of cuddling so confidingly close. In spite of the morning of excitement and exertion there wasn't a droop in any part of Ruth's splendid, well-trained body, but she rode slowly, the rains lying loose, and Bonnie trod softly as she was told, picking her dainty footsteps in the yielding surface of sand and pine needles, her beautiful tail swinging rhythmically back and forth in unison with the motion of her sleek body. Ruth's arms were folded, and her head thrown slightly back to catch the spatters of sunlight sifting down through the trees. Her deep blue eyes were thoughtful. How joyous, tranquil, and unconcerned she and Dad and Danny had set out over this same path earlier in the morning! This led her to wonder if her own special responsibility was behaving himself like a little gentleman, her little curly-haired sunbeam. We must take him round to brighten up the two lonely women very soon, Bonnie, mustn't we? But where, where would poor helpless Susan and Sarah be?  It would be easy enough to stop the progress of the fire after it had consumed the little house. Of that she felt sure, with the force of men at work, and then, with a little expressive twinkle of amused surprise, it occurred to her that she had failed to notice whether the young, man so wondrous wise, who jumped into a bramble-bush and fortunately didn't scratch out both his eyes, had joined the firefighters or not. Bonnie! the mare stopped, turned her graceful head and pointed ears in questioning surprise. Bonnie!  Just think of that fetching straw hat sailing through the air and landing yards away from its lawful owner, and those light-gray flannel trousers supposing the blueberries had been ripe, what then?  Now, Bonnie, if you are sufficiently impressed with the possible results of a faux pas, you may proceed. There was a telepathic sympathy between Bonnie and her rider, and it was an almost imperceptible touch that set the mare off at a smart trot, for Danny had been out of sight full long enough. CHAPTER X Had Ruth remained in the clearing just a few minutes longer, she would have realized that the fate of the grey flannel trousers was not wholly determined by the consideration of the blueberry bushes. It was Richard who ran toward the little house, calling to others to follow. It was Richard who shinied up the post of the little porch, swung himself up to the gutter, and gingerly crept along till within arm's length of the greedy, lapping, though at present very small, flames. He called to the men to throw him a hatchet, which after two or three unsuccessful attempts landed where he could catch it. He didn't put much confidence in the gutter, but he had to risk it. So leaning half his weight on the roof with his left hand, with his right he swung the hatchet, every blow of which sent the burning shingles flying, and these in turn were beaten out by the men below. It seemed almost like wasted time, for surely it would catch again somewhere else. But is splendid effort ever wasted, so long as there is a ray of hope? As if in answer to the unexpressed thought and undaunted determination of the fighters, the wind shifted just a few points. With exaltation the men took renewed hope. One more hour's good struggle, and the victory was won. The last flickering flame was extinguished. The tired men gathered in groups, wiping their heated faces, for they were a sorry sight. Perspiration and smoke had smooched and streaked and smudded. Hmm! thought our friend Richard. I'm like to make an impressive introduction at a hotel. Fortunately for me it is early in the season yet, and the lorn yet artillery will not be an active service. But it is safe to predict that the bellboys won't tumble over themselves in their desire to show me to my room. I can see the rascals now, a dig in the ribs with an elbow, a fearful contortion of one eye, a tongue in the right cheek. No tips but tipsy, eh? Picking up his coat he stopped to survey the men standing in groups and gesticulating while they surmised as regards the origin of the fire. Ten to one it's them old blueberry pickers, growled one, and something dot to be done about it. It was a known fact that where the bushes are burned out in the spring the summer crop of berries is the largest. Then Richard's eye lighted on Mr. Sanderson and Captain Frost. Well, I shan't be the only gentleman tramp to walk the streets, he muttered with satisfaction. Then he moved closer to these two. By jumping Jupiter, I believe it! Well, of all the luck, of course it is, and now I know where I saw the goddess. But who is the past hero of the crested wave he's talking to? Can't be—oh, I say, I'll certainly have to take something from my nerves if this sort of thing keeps up. Here I've only been in this remote little hamlet an hour or so, and I've narrowly escaped death through being run over by a goddess. I've joined the fire brigade, and now, if I listen hard, I think I can hear the sprouting of a budding detective within my being. I'll test this germinating talent. He carefully shook and beat his coat, dusted his smart straw hat as best he could, and sauntered over to the two gentlemen in question. He addressed himself to the older man. I beg pardon, sir, but can you direct me the nearest way to the hotel bay view? Gladly, young man, you are a stranger here, asked the captain, as he offered his hand with a strong grip of good fellowship. Richard nodded in answer to the question. I am but just arrived, although you'd never guess it from my appearance—with a deprecating gesture and a good, humored laugh. Well, sir, you have allowed no time to pass before making our interests yours. Let me thank you heartily. And here's Mr. Sanderson, too, only been here a few days. May I introduce you to Mr. Sanderson of Colorado? Richard lifted his hat. I am Richard Huntington, from Salem, and glad to meet you, including both men in a graceful bow. Richard Huntington? exclaimed the captain. Well, now I might have known it. I am more than ever glad to see you, sir. My daughter Mary has told me much about you, but she was not aware you were coming so soon. Welcome to Harwich, my boy! The captain's face beamed with pleasure as he placed both hands on Richard's shoulders. Their eyes were on a level, and both were big men. But as Captain Frost had begun to stoop a trifle at the shoulders, he must have been the taller man at Richard's age. My wife will be glad to meet you and hear from her old and much-loved home. Mr. Sanderson was puzzled by an unaccountable feeling of discomfort all of a sudden. He glanced up to see if a cloud had crossed over the sun, for certainly a shadow had passed over something. It was an indefinable feeling. Perhaps he was just hungry after the unaccustomed physical exertion. You would scarcely find three more striking-looking men together anywhere. The struggle with the elements, and often with men which inevitably falls to the lot of seafaring men, had left its stamp of a conqueror on the hail and hardy ex-captain. Mr. Sanderson was a finished product of enlightenment and discipline acquired by mental and moral training, which the dictionary defines as culture. He had all the ease and grace of a man of the world, and with all a normal, healthy, virile personality, while Richard was especially noticeable for his splendid physique, an open, wholesome, boyish face, a ready wit, and generally optimistic outlook on life. Captain Frost started Richard on the right path for the hotel after extracting a promise from him to show himself at the old white house at the very earliest possible moment. The captain and Mr. Sanderson remained to superintend the replacing of the household gods for Miss Susan and Miss Sarah, whose tears had turned to smiles, and their anguish of heart was replaced by silent prayers of thanksgiving. Richard was wondering, as he strolled once more through these most astonishing woods, where that will of the wisp of a girl had disappeared to. Now the will of a wisp of a girl was again perched on the piazza rail, facing a most interested audience of four, to whom she told the tale of the morning, supposing that the little house was by this time enveloped in flames, and that the men were giving all their attention to stopping the progress of the fire at the edge of the meadow. Ruth was giving them a vivid picture of all the events from the moment when she passed Mary and Danny on her wild ride, and you may be sure that the morning's excitement lost no jot of interest in her telling of it. Danny listened with wide eyes. He was comfortably relaxed on dear Mrs. Frost's motherly lap as she gently rocked to and fro, occasionally running her fingers through the golden curls just for the pleasure of seeing them spring back and coil yet closer to Danny's head. I wonder who that young man could possibly be, pondered Mary. She and her mother had exchanged glances of keen enjoyment and appreciation when Ruth, her face alive with mischievous enjoyment, came to the recital of the Contra Tom at the sharp bend of the woodland path. Eunice threw her apron over her head, alternately bending and straightening in a really painful fit of mirth. But Danny said, I hope you tell that young man you was sorry, Ruffles! Yes, I did, Danny Kins. I rode back and told him I hoped he wasn't hurt and that he'd pardon us, and he replied, No indeed, certainly, that is to say, and Ruth chuckled merrily again. Danny looked more solemn yet and thoughtfully announced, Well, I can't quite seem to get my head through that, Ruffles. Perhaps he's French. He was slightly disgruntled at the effect of his last remark.  The sparkles disappeared, however, from Ruth's eyes, and consternation and pity filled the minds of Mary and her mother as Ruth progressed. Mother! exclaimed Mary. It's Susan and Sarah Simkins' house. There will be no insurance, nothing. They will be utterly ruined. Land of love, Miss Frost, of all the people in the whole town, ain't they the very last one should be left to stand on their own feet? queried Eunice. Danny had been forgotten for the time being.  Rushing across the piazza to Ruth, he flung himself in a very abandonment of childish sorrow. He threw his head back, uttering piercing wails and screams. He stamped his feet. For when grief broke the bounds of Danny's self-control, there was a tempest indeed. If Ruth had noticed, she would have averted it, but she had not seen. This was a new and totally unexpected aspect of Danny to Mrs. Frost and Mary. They felt utterly helpless and uncomprehending. Ruth placed her hands on Danny's shoulders, gently pushed him back a step, and commanded him to stop at once. He gazed up at his sister through the glistening, streaming tears, his little body shaking with the violence of his sobs. He screamed, I don't want that house to burn down. Again he stamped his foot in baffled rage. Ruffles! Ruffles! he screamed in a sharp crescendo. They won't have any bed to sleep in.  Ruth calmly picked up the shaking little figure, carried him to the further end of the piazza, sat down, and held him close for a minute. Then she said, her mouth close to his ear, Danny, hush, I want to talk to you. Very slowly the sobs quieted and came farther and farther apart. Now, Danny, listen. What good does it do for you to scream like that? That won't help those ladies any, will it? We must talk it over and see if there is anything we can do to help. Let us go home to Dewey and we'll plan something, shall we? In less than a minute Danny was all smiles, even while the tears still stood large and shining, trembling on the edge of his curling lashes, till he drew his chubby hand across and wiped them all away. They bade good-bye to their friends, and scampered home to wait for father, who would help them think what could be done for poor Miss Susan and Miss Sarah.