CHAPTER VI
UNCLE RUFUS
That whispered conversation between Ruth and Agnes after they wereabed that first Sunday night of the Kenways' occupancy of the OldCorner House, bore unexpected fruit. Dot's ears were sharp, and shehad not been asleep.
From the room she and Tess occupied, opening out of the chamber inwhich the bigger girls slept, Dot heard enough of the whispered talkto get a fixed idea in her head. And when Dot _did_ get an idea, itwas hard to "shake it loose," as Agnes declared.
Mrs. McCall kept one eye on Tess and Dot as they played about theovergrown garden, for she could see this easily from the kitchenwindows. Mrs. McCall had already made herself indispensable to thefamily; even Aunt Sarah recognized her worth.
Ruth and Agnes were dusting and making the beds on this Mondaymorning, while Tess and Dot were setting their playhouse to rights.
"I just heard her say so, so now, Tessie Kenway," Dot was saying. "AndI know if it's up there, it's never had a thing to eat since we camehere to live."
"I don't see how that could be," said Tess, wonderingly.
"It's just _so_," repeated the positive Dot.
"But why doesn't it make a noise?"
"We-ell," said the smaller girl, puzzled, too, "maybe we don't hear it'cause it's too far up--there at the top of the house."
"I know," said Tess, thoughtfully. "They eat tin cans, and rubberboots, and any old thing. But I always thought that was because theycouldn't find any other food. Like those castaway sailors Ruth read tous about, who chewed their sealskin boots. Maybe such things stop thegnawing feeling you have in your stomach when you're hungry."
"I am going to pull some grass and take it up there," announced thestubborn Dot. "I am sure it would be glad of some grass."
"Maybe Ruth wouldn't like us to," objected Tess.
"But it isn't Ruthie's!" cried Dot. "It must have belonged to UnclePeter."
"Why! that's so," agreed Tess.
For once she was over-urged by Dot. Both girls pulled great sheafs ofgrass. They held it before them in the skirts of their pinafores, andstarted up the back stairs.
Mrs. McCall chanced to be in the pantry and did not see them. Theywould have reached the garret without Ruth or Agnes being the wiserhad not Dot, laboring upward, dropped a wisp of grass in the secondhall.
"What's all this?" demanded Agnes, coming upon the scattered grass.
"What's what?" asked Ruth, behind her.
"And on the stairs!" exclaimed Agnes again. "Why, it's grass, Ruth."
"Grass growing on the stairs?" demanded her older sister, wonderingly,and running to see.
"Of course not _growing_," declared Agnes. "But who dropped it?Somebody has gone up----"
She started up the second flight, and Ruth after her. The trespasserswere already on the garret flight. There was a tight door at the topof those stairs so no view could be obtained of the garret.
"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Agnes. "What are you doing up here?"
"And with grass," said Ruth. "We're all going to explore up theretogether some day soon. But you needn't make your beds up there," andshe laughed.
"Not going to make beds," announced Tess, rather grumpily.
"For pity's sake, what _are_ you going to do?" asked Agnes.
"We're going to feed the goat," said Dot, gravely.
"Going to feed _what_?" shrieked Agnes.
"The goat," repeated Dot.
"She says there's one up here," Tess exclaimed, sullenly.
"A goat in the garret!" gasped Ruth. "How ridiculous. What put such anidea into your heads?"
"Aggie said so herself," said Dot, her lip quivering. "I heard hertell you so last night after we were all abed."
"A--goat--in--the--gar--ret!" murmured Agnes, in wonder.
Ruth saw the meaning of it instantly. She pulled Aggie by the sleeve.
"Be still," she commanded, in a whisper. "I told you little pitchershad big ears. She heard all that foolishness that Larry girl toldyou." Then to the younger girls she said:
"We'll go right up and see if we can find any goat there. But I amsure Uncle Peter would not have kept a goat in his garret."
"But you and Aggie _said_ so," declared Dot, much put out.
"You misunderstood what we said. And you shouldn't listen to hear whatother people say--that's eavesdropping, and is not nice at all. Come."
Ruth mounted the stairs ahead and threw open the garret door. A great,dimly lit, unfinished room was revealed, the entire size of the mainpart of the mansion. Forests of clothing hung from the rafters. Therewere huge trunks and chests, and all manner of odd pieces offurniture.
The small windows were curtained with spider's lacework of the veryfinest pattern. Dust lay thick upon everything. Agnes sneezed.
"Goodness! what a place!" she said.
"I don't believe there is a goat here, Dot," said Tess, becoming herusual practical self. "He'd--he'd cough himself to death!"
"You can take that grass down stairs," said Ruth, smiling. But sheremained behind to whisper to Agnes:
"You'll have to have a care what you say before that young one, Ag. Itwas 'the _ghost_ in the garret' she heard you speak about."
"Well," admitted the plump sister, "I could see the whole of thatdusty old place. It doesn't seem to me as though _any_ ghost wouldcare to live there. I guess that Eva Larry didn't know what she wastalking about after all."
It was not, however, altogether funny. Ruth realized that, if Agnesdid not.
"I really wish that girl had not told you that silly story," said theelder sister.
"Well, if there should be a ghost----"
"Oh, be still!" exclaimed Ruth. "You know there's no such thing,Aggie."
"I don't care," concluded Aggie. "The old house _is_ dreadfullyspooky. And that garret----"
"Is a very dusty place," finished Ruth, briskly, all her housewifelyinstincts aroused. "Some day soon we'll go up there and have athorough house-cleaning."
"Oh!"
"We'll drive out both the ghost and the goat," laughed Ruth. "Why,that will be a lovely place to play in on rainy days."
"Boo! it's spooky," repeated her sister.
"It won't be, after we clean it up."
"And Eva says that's when the haunt appears--on stormy days."
"I declare! you're a most exasperating child," said Ruth, and thatshut Agnes' lips pretty tight for the time being. She did not like tobe called a child.
It was a day or two later that Mrs. McCall sent for Ruth to come tothe back door to see an old colored man who stood there, turning hisbattered hat around and around in his hands, the sun shining on hisbald, brown skull.
"Good mawnin', Missie," said he, humbly. "Is yo' one o' dese yererelatifs of Mars' Peter, what done come to lib yere in de ol' Co'nerHouse?"
"Yes," said Ruth, smiling. "I am Ruth Kenway."
"Well, Missie, I's Unc' Rufus," said the old man, simply.
"Uncle Rufus?"
"Yes, Missie."
"Why! you used to work for our Uncle Peter?"
"Endurin' twenty-four years, Missie," said the old man.
"Come in, Uncle Rufus," said Ruth, kindly. "I am glad to see you, I amsure. It is nice of you to call."
"Yes, Missie; I 'lowed you'd be glad tuh see me. Das what I tol' mydarter, Pechunia----"
"Petunia?"
"Ya-as. Pechunia Blossom. Das her name, Missie. I been stayin' wid herever since dey turn me out o' yere."
"Oh! I suppose you mean since Uncle Peter died?"
"Ya-as, Missie," said the old man, following her into the sittingroom, and staring around with rolling eyes. Then he chuckled, andsaid: "Disher does seem lak' home tuh me, Missie."
"I should think so, Uncle Rufus," said Ruth.
"I done stay here till das lawyer man done tol' me I wouldn't bewanted no mo'," said the colored man. "But I sho' does feel dat de ol'Co'ner House cyan't git erlong widout me no mo' dan I kin git erlongwidout _it_. I feels los', Missie, down dere to Pechunia Bloss
om's."
"Aren't you happy with your daughter, Uncle Rufus?" asked Ruth,sympathetically.
"Sho' now! how you t'ink Unc' Rufus gwine tuh be happy wid nottin' todo, an' sech a raft o' pickaninnies erbout? Glo-ree! I sho' feels likeI was livin' in a sawmill, wid er boiler fact'ry on one side an' oneo' dese yere stone-crushers on de oder."
"Why, that's too bad, Uncle Rufus."
"Yo' see, Missie," pursued the old black man, sitting gingerly on theedge of the chair Ruth had pointed out to him, "I done wo'k for Mars'Peter so long. I done ev'ryt'ing fo' him. I done de sweepin', an' mak'he's bed, an' cook fo' him, an' wait on him han' an' foot--ya-as'm!
"Ain't nobody suit Mars' Peter like ol' Unc' Rufus. He got so hewouldn't have no wimmen-folkses erbout. I ta' de wash to Pechunia, an'bring hit back; an' I markets fo' him, an' all dat. Oh, I's spry fo'an ol' feller, Missie. I kin wait on table quite propah--though 'twasa long time since Mars' Peter done have any comp'ny an' dis dinin'room was fixed up for 'em.
"I tak' care ob de silvah, Missie, an' de linen, an' all. Right smartof silvah Mars' Peter hab, Missie. Yo' sho' needs Uncle Rufus yere,Missie. I don't see how yo' git erlong widout him so long."
"Mercy me!" gasped Ruth, suddenly awakening to what the old man wasgetting at. "You mean to say you want to come back here to _work_?"
"Sho'ly! sho'ly!" agreed Uncle Rufus, nodding his head a great manytimes, and with a wistful smile on his wrinkled old face that wentstraight to Ruth's heart.
"But, Uncle Rufus! we don't _need_ you, I'm afraid. We have Mrs.McCall--and there are only four of us girls and Aunt Sarah."
"I 'member Mis' Sarah very well, Missie," said Uncle Rufus, nodding."She'll sho'ly speak a good word fo' Uncle Rufus, Missie. Yo' ax her."
"But--Mr. Howbridge----"
"Das lawyer man," said Uncle Rufus, "he neber jes' understood how itwas," proposed the old colored man, gently. "He didn't jes' see datdis ol' Co'ner House was my home so long, dat no oder place seems jes'_right_ tuh me."
"I understand," said Ruth, softly, but much worried.
"Disher w'ite lady yo' got tuh he'p, _she'll_ fin' me mightyhandy--ya-as'm. I kin bring in de wood fo' her, an' git up de coalf'om de cellar. I kin mak' de paf's neat. I kin mak' yo' a leetle bitgyarden, Missie--'taint too late fo' some vegertables. Yo'd oughterhave de lawn-grass cut."
The old man's catalog of activities suggested the need of a muchyounger worker, yet Ruth felt so sorry for him! She was timid abouttaking such a responsibility upon herself. What would Mr. Howbridgesay?
Meanwhile the old man was fumbling in an inner pocket. He broughtforth a battered wallet and from it drew a soiled, crumpled strip ofpaper.
"Mars' Peter didn't never intend to fo'get me--I know he didn't," saidUncle Rufus, earnestly. "Disher paper he gib me, Missie, jes' de daybefo' he pass ter Glory. He was a kin' marster, an' he lean on Unc'Rufus a powerful lot. Jes' yo' read dis."
Ruth took the paper. Upon it, in a feeble scrawl, was written oneline, and that unsigned:
"Take care of Uncle Rufus."
* * * * *
"Who--whom did he tell you to give this to, Uncle Rufus?" asked thetroubled girl, at last.
"He didn't say, Missie. He warn't speakin' none by den," said the oldman. "But I done kep' it, sho'ly, 'tendin' tuh sho' it to his relatifswhat come yere to lib."
"And you did right, Uncle Rufus, to bring it to us," said Ruth, comingto a sudden decision. "I'll see what can be done."