CHAPTER X _The Visit with Rebecca_
The following morning Mrs. Gay relented from her decision to pack up thefamily's things and go home immediately. It was such a perfect day; theriver sparkled beautifully in the sunlight, the birds sang sweetly in thetrees beside the cottage, and her children seemed happy. Yes, it would beabsurd to run away from all this beauty.
Mary Louise was overjoyed at her mother's decision. Immediately she beganto make important plans for the day. She would go over to Adams' farm andfind out where Rebecca was. If necessary, she could have the boys trailher during the day, in case the crazy woman might be planning anotherfire for tonight. Then she would call on the Ditmars and make it a pointto talk to the man himself. Maybe she'd run over to Eberhardt's store atFour Corners, later in the afternoon, just to check up on his business.Oh, it promised to be an interesting day for Mary Louise!
"Where will the 'Wild Guys of the Road' be today?" she asked her brotherat breakfast.
"Over at our cabin, I guess," replied Freckles. "Why?"
"I may want to call on you for some sleuthing," explained Mary Louise. "Iam a little suspicious about Rebecca Adams--that queer-looking woman youboys saw the night Flicks' Inn burned down. Remember her?"
"Sure I do! Nobody'd forget a scarecrow like that!"
"Well, you stay around here, where I can get hold of you, while I driveover to Adams' farm right after breakfast. If I can locate her, I'd likeyou boys to keep your eyes on her all day."
Freckles' face lighted up with excitement.
"You can count on us, Sis!" he assured her.
"Thanks a lot. Now, you help Mother with the dishes, and I'll run along.Want to come with me, Jane?"
"Yes, I do," replied her chum. "I'm really interested in the mystery ofthe fires. I admit now that they couldn't all be accidents."
"And you'd kind of like to prove Cliff Hunter is innocent, wouldn't you,Jane?" teased Freckles.
"Naturally! Who wouldn't?" was the retort.
Mary Louise backed the car out of the garage and followed the same roadshe and David McCall had taken on their first visit to Adams' farm. Shedrove very cautiously now, almost as if she expected Rebecca Adams todart out again from the bushes into the path of her car.
But nothing happened, and the girls reached the top of the hill insafety. An old man was sitting out on the porch with one leg propped upon a chair. A young man was standing on the steps talking to him. He wasa big fellow in overalls; Mary Louise remembered seeing him at Flicks'the day after the fire. He must be Hattie's brother Tom.
The girls left the car at the fence and approached timidly, not quitesure how they would be received.
"Good-morning," began Jane briskly, to hide her nervousness. "Is Hattiehome today?"
The old man looked questioningly at his son.
"Have you seen her since breakfast, Tom?" he inquired.
"Yeah," replied the young man. "She's still in the kitchen, or elseupstairs with Rebecca.... Well, I'll be movin' on, Dad. I'll be away allafternoon--the hired man'll have to look after things."
"Where you goin'?"
"Four Corners."
"What for?"
Tom shrugged his shoulders: he wasn't going to tell his business in frontof strangers, Mary Louise decided. Then he shuffled off.
"See that you get back in time for the milkin'," was his father'scommand. "And stop around at the back now and call to Hattie. Tell hershe's got visitors."
Mary Louise and Jane sat down on the step and waited.
"Too bad about that fire night before last," remarked the old man. "Luckything they saved the little girl."
"It was Mary Louise who did that," announced Jane proudly, noddingtowards her chum.
"Hm! You don't say!" returned Mr. Adams. "Well, I reckon girls arebraver'n boys nowadays. My Hattie's a good girl, too. Can't say anythingag'in' her."
"Oh yes, everybody likes Hattie," agreed Mary Louise instantly.She wished that she could ask Mr. Adams about his otherdaughter--Rebecca--but she didn't know just how to begin.
Jane, however, came bluntly to the point, as usual.
"Mr. Adams," she said, "may I ask a question? You wouldn't mind--if itwas something about your family?"
The old man grinned.
"I know what it is, miss. It's about my daughter Rebecca, ain't it? Yes,go ahead. I ain't sensitive about her--we ought to be used to her bynow!"
"That's right," agreed Jane. "Do you think she could be starting thefires? Do you know, she warned Mary Louise day before yesterday therewould be another fire? And of course there was. And then she came to ourtent that night and wakened us up to tell us that Smiths' house was onfire."
Mr. Adams nodded.
"I can believe it. But I don't think Rebecca would ever set anything onfire. She's afraid of 'em. She won't even light the stove or do anycookin' for that very reason. Many's the time she's come in with herpitcher of water and poured it right on the coals in the stove. It'saggravatin' if you're ready to get dinner. Hattie and me have bothslapped her for doin' it, but she keeps right on.... No, I don't see howwe could lay the blame on poor old Rebecca."
"I'm glad to hear you say that," said Mary Louise. "She seems like such ahappy, harmless creature that it would be a shame to shut her upsomewhere or accuse her of a crime."
"Didn't you say she is home now?" inquired Jane.
"She's upstairs in bed with a sore throat," replied Mr. Adams. "That'swhy Hattie's stayin' around--and because my rheumatism is bad ag'in.Otherwise I reckon she'd be over to the Royal trying to get work. She wassorry to lose her job at Flicks'."
"Yes, she told us."
The girl herself appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, hello, girls!" she exclaimed. "Glad to see you. Come on into thekitchen. I'm fixin' some broth for Rebecca. She's upstairs sick."
The two girls entered the old farmhouse and followed Hattie through thehall, back into the old-fashioned kitchen. It was a large room, withseveral chairs near the windows, and Mary Louise and Jane sat down.
"I am going to be frank with you, Hattie," began Mary Louise, "and tellyou why we've come. You've heard, I suppose, that they arrested CliffHunter on the charge of burning three houses, and Jane and I believe he'sinnocent. So we want to find out who really is responsible. We thoughtthere might just be a chance that it was Rebecca."
"I don't blame you for thinking that," agreed the girl. "But I'm sure shecouldn't be guilty of that particular thing. She's crazy enough to doit--only she's scared of fires."
"Yes, so your father said. But she must know something, or how could shepredict when they are going to occur?"
"She's always predicting them," laughed Hattie. "Even when there aren'tany. And sometimes when it's just a fire to toast marshmallows she getsall excited and swears it's the wrath of heaven descending on ShadyNook."
"She came and warned us about the Smiths'," put in Jane.
"She probably saw the flames. Sometimes she gets up in the middle of thenight and goes out with her pitcher. She was probably wandering aroundthat night. I guess that's how she caught her sore throat."
Mary Louise nodded. "Could we go upstairs and see her when you take upher broth?" she inquired.
"Sure. But I'm afraid you won't get much sense out of her today. She hasa slight fever, and her mind's wandering a lot."
Nevertheless, the girls followed Hattie up the carpeted staircase to aroom on the second floor. The blinds at the windows were pulled down, butthey could see Rebecca's face, surrounded by its tangled gray curls, onthe pillow. She was muttering to herself when they entered the door.
"Here's some chicken broth for you, Rebecca," said Hattie cheerfully."And a couple of visitors."
The woman stared at the girls blankly, and then shook her head.
"Don't know them," she remarked.
"Of course you do!" insisted Hattie, pulling up the window shade. "Theseare the girls who saved the little child at the Smith fire the othe
rnight."
Rebecca sat up and peered at them. Suddenly a smile broke over her face.
"Yes, oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "I do remember. Mr. and Mrs. Smith arewicked people, traveling off and leaving their children alone, and theLord sent a fire to punish them. But I put the fire out with my wellwater, and these girls saved the baby. Yes, yes, I remember."
Hattie straightened her sister's pillow and handed her the tray.
"Get me my well water," commanded the woman, indicating the familiarpitcher which she always carried with her about the countryside.
"Can't you tell us where you were when that fire started?" asked MaryLouise. "Didn't you go to bed that night?"
The woman sipped her broth slowly.
"No, I didn't," she said finally. "I was sittin' on the porch till Tomcome home. About midnight, I guess you call it. And then it seemed as ifI could see smoke over at Shady Nook. We're high up here on the hill; wecan look down on the wickedness of you people in the valley."
Jane repressed a giggle. Without noticing it, Rebecca continued:
"So I picked up my pitcher and ran down the hill to Shady Nook to warnthe people. I saw Smiths' house burnin' then, and I heard folks shoutin'.So I run along and tried all the doors at Shady Nook. All of 'em waslocked. Then I looked in that tent and found you girls sleepin' and giveyou the warnin'."
Apparently exhausted with the effort of eating and talking, she droppedover on her pillow asleep. Hattie picked up the tray, and the girlsfollowed her out of the room.
"I wish we could talk to your brother," remarked Mary Louise as theyreentered the kitchen. "If he was out late that night, maybe he saw thefire start. Maybe he knows something----"
"Maybe he wasn't out at all," laughed Hattie. "You can't depend on whatRebecca says. For the most part she's sensible, but sometimes she getssadly muddled. Especially about fires. That's the one subject inparticular that she's hipped about."
"Well, I guess we better be going, Hattie," concluded Mary Louise, "if wewant a swim this morning. Why don't you come over and go in with thecrowd, now that you haven't any job? We'd like to have you."
"Thanks awfully," returned the girl, "but I've got to stay here. Tom'sgone off in the Ford, and I have to look after things. Dad can't evencook his lunch, on account of his rheumatism."
"Where did your brother go?" inquired Mary Louise.
"Four Corners, I think. He likes to play cards over there. I'm afraid hegambles. Dad doesn't know about it."
No sooner were the girls out of the gate than Jane asked her chum why shehad shown any interest in Tom Adams' whereabouts. "You don't suspect him,do you?" she questioned.
"I suspect everybody," returned the other girl laughingly. "No, I reallydon't," she corrected, "because Tom Adams lost a job by Flicks' burningdown. That won't be so nice for him, especially if he likes to gamble andneeds the money to pay his debts. But I just thought he might knowsomething, if he really was out till after midnight the night beforelast. He might even be protecting somebody!"
"So I suppose we have to go to Four Corners this afternoon?" sighed Jane.
"Not till after we call on the Ditmars," replied Mary Louise. "And a swimand a lunch come before that!"