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Ruth Fielding At College
OR
THE MISSING EXAMINATION PAPERS
BY ALICE B. EMERSON
Author of "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill," "Ruth Fielding on CliffIsland," Etc.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORKCUPPLES & LEON COMPANYPUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1917, byCupples & Leon Company
Ruth Fielding at College
Printed in U. S. A.
"ASHORE! PUT US ASHORE!" RUTH GASPED.]
CONTENTS
I. Looking Collegeward
II. Maggie
III. Expectations
IV. First Impressions
V. Getting Settled
VI. Miss Cullam's Trouble
VII. Fame Is Not Always an Asset
VIII. The Stone Face
IX. Getting on
X. A Tempest in a Teapot
XI. The One Rebel
XII. Ruth Is Not Satisfied
XIII. The Girl in the Storm
XIV. "Oft in the Stilly Night"
XV. An Odd Adventure
XVI. What Was in Rebecca's Trunk
XVII. What Was in Rebecca's Heart
XVIII. Bearding the Lions
XIX. A Deep, Dark Plot
XX. Two Surprises
XXI. Many Things Happen
XXII. Can It Be a Clue?
XXIII. The Squall
XXIV. Treasure Hunting
XXV. The End of a Perfect Year
RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE
CHAPTER I
LOOKING COLLEGEWARD
"Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!"
By no possibility could Aunt Alvirah Boggs have risen from her lowrocking chair in the Red Mill kitchen without murmuring this complaint.
She was a little, hoop-backed woman, with crippled limbs; but shepossessed a countenance that was very much alive, nut-brown andinnumerably wrinkled though it was.
She had been Mr. Jabez Potter's housekeeper at the Red Mill for morethan fifteen years, and if anybody knew the "moods and tenses" of themiserly miller, it must have been Aunt Alvirah. She even professed toknow the miller's feelings toward his grand-niece, Ruth Fielding, betterthan Ruth knew them herself.
The little old woman was expecting the return of Ruth now, and she wentto the porch to see if she could spy her down the road, and thus bewarned in time to set the tea to draw. Ruth and her friends, who hadgone for a tramp in the September woods, would come in ravenous for teaand cakes and bread-and-butter sandwiches.
Aunt Alvirah looked out upon a very beautiful autumn landscape when sheopened the farmhouse door. The valley of the Lumano was attractive atall times--in storm or sunshine. Now it was a riot of color, from thedeep crimson of the sumac to the pale amber of certain maple leaveswhich fell in showers whenever the wanton breeze shook the boughs.
"Here they come!" murmured Aunt Alvirah. "Here's my pretty!"
She identified the trio striding up the roadway, distant as they were.Ruth, her cheeks rosy, her hair flying, came on ahead, while theblack-haired and black-eyed twins, Helen and Tom Cameron, walkedhand-in-hand behind her. This was their final outing together in thevicinity of the Red Mill for many months. Helen and Tom were always veryclose companions, and although they had already been separated duringschool terms, Tom had run over from Seven Oaks to see his sister atBriarwood for almost every week-end.
"No more of 'sich doin's now, old man," Helen said to him, smilingrather tremulously. "And even when you get to Harvard next year, youwill not be allowed often at Ardmore. They say there is a sign 'No BoysAllowed' stuck up beside every 'Keep Off the Grass' sign on the Ardmorelawns."
"Nonsense!" laughed Tom.
"Oh, I only repeat what I've been told."
"Well, Sis, you won't be entirely alone," Tom said kindly. "Ruth will bewith you. You and she will have your usual good times."
"Of course. But _you'll_ be awfully lonely, Tommy."
"True enough," agreed Tom.
Then Ruth's gay voice hailed them from the porch upon which she hadmounted yards ahead of them.
"Come on, slow-pokes. Aunt Alvirah has put on the tea. I smell it!"
Ruth Fielding did not possess her chum's measure of beauty. Helen was adainty, compelling brunette with flashing eyes--eyes she had alreadylearned to use to the undoing of what Ruth called "the youthful male ofthe species."
As for Ruth herself, she considered boys no mystery. She was fond ofTom, for he was the first friend she had made in that long-ago time whenshe arrived, a little girl and a stranger, at the Red Mill. Other boysdid not interest Ruth in the least.
Without Helen's beauty, she was, nevertheless, a decidedly attractivegirl. Her figure was well rounded, her eyes shone, her hair was justwavy enough to be pretty, and she was very, very much alive. If RuthFielding took an interest in anything that thing, Tom declared, "wentwith a bang!"
She was positive, energetic, and usually finished anything that shebegan. She had already done some things that few girls of her age couldhave accomplished.
The trio of friends trooped into Aunt Alvirah's clean and shiningkitchen.
"Dear me! dear me!" murmured the little old woman, "I sha'n't have thepleasure of your company for long. I'll miss my pretty," and she smiledfondly at Ruth.
"That's the only drawback about coming home from school," grumbled Tom,looking really forlorn, even with his mouth full of Aunt Alvirah's poundcake.
"What's the drawback?" demanded his twin.
"Going away again. Just think! We sha'n't see each other for so long."
He was staring at Ruth, and Helen, with a roguish twinkle in her eye,passed him her pocket-handkerchief--a wee and useless bit oflace--saying:
"Weep, if you must, Tommy; but get it over with. Ruth and I are notgnashing _our_ teeth about going away. Just to think! ARDMORE!"
Nothing but capital letters would fully express the delight she put intothe name of the college she and Ruth were to attend.
"Huh!" grunted Tom.
Aunt Alvirah said: "It wouldn't matter, deary, if you was both goin' offto be Queens of Sheby; it's the goin' away that hurts."
Ruth had her arms about the little old woman and her own voice wascaressing if not lachrymose.
"Don't take it so to heart, Aunt Alvirah. We shall not forget you. Youshall send us a box of goodies once in a while as you always do; and Iwill write to you and to Uncle Jabez. Keep up your heart, dear."
"Easy said, my pretty," sighed the old woman. "Not so easy follered out.An' Jabe Potter is dreadful tryin' when you ain't here."
"Poor Uncle Jabez," murmured Ruth.
"Poor Aunt Alvirah, you'd better say!" exclaimed Helen, sharply, for shehad not the patience with the miserly miller that his niece possessed.
At the moment the back door was pushed open. Helen jumped. She fearedthat Uncle Jabez had overheard her criticism.
But it was only Ben, the hired man, who thrust his face bashfully aroundthe edge of the door. The young people hailed him gaily, and Ruthoffered him a piece of cake.
"Thank'e, Miss Ruth," Ben said. "I can't come in. Jest came to the shedfor the oars."
"Is uncle going across the river in the punt?" asked Ruth.
"No, Mis
s Ruth. There's a boat adrift on the river."
"What kind of boat?" asked Tom, jumping up. "What d'you mean?"
"She's gone adrift, Mr. Tom," said Ben. "Looks like she come from one o'them camps upstream."
"Oh! let's go and see!" cried Helen, likewise eager for something new.
Neither of the Cameron twins ever remained in one position or wereinterested solely in one thing for long.
The young folk trooped out after Ben through the long, covered passageto the rear door of the Red Mill. The water-wheel was turning and thejar of the stones set every beam and plank in the structure totrembling. The air was a haze of fine white particles. Uncle Jabez cameforward, as dusty and crusty an old miller as one might ever expect tosee.
He was a tall, crabbed looking man, the dust of the mill seemingly soground into the lines of his face that it was grey all over and onewondered if it could ever be washed clean again. He only nodded to hisniece and her friends, seizing the oars Ben had brought with theobservation:
"Go 'tend to Gil Martin, Ben. He's waitin' for his flour. Where ye beenall this time? That boat'll drift by."
Ben knew better than to reply as he hastened to the shipping door whereMr. Martin waited with his wagon for the sacks of flour. The miller wentto the platform on the riverside, Ruth and her friends following him.
"I see it!" cried Tom. "Can't be anybody in it for it's sailingbroadside."
Uncle Jabez put the oars in the punt and began to untie the painter.
"All the more reason we should get it," he said drily. "Salvage, yeknow."
"You mustn't go alone, Uncle Jabez," Ruth said mildly.
"Huh! why not?" snarled the old miller.
"Something might happen. If Ben can't go, I will take an oar."
He knew she was quite capable of handling the punt, even in the rapids,so he merely growled his acquiescence. At that moment Ruth discoveredsomething.
"Why! the boat isn't empty!" she cried.
"You're right, Ruth! I see something in it," said Tom.
Uncle Jabez straightened up, holding the painter doubtfully.
"Aw, well," he grunted. "If there's somebody in it----"
He saw no reason for going after the drifting boat if it were manned. Hecould not claim the boat or claim salvage for it under suchcircumstances.
But the strange boat was drifting toward the rapids of the Lumano thatbegan just below the mill. In the present state of the river this "whitewater," as lumbermen call it, was dangerous.
"Why, how foolish!" Helen cried. "Whoever is in that boat is lying inthe bottom of it."
"And drifting right toward the middle of the river!" added her twin.
"Hurry up, Uncle Jabez!" urged Ruth. "We must go out there."
"What fur, I'd like to know?" demanded the miller sharply. "We ain'thired ter go out an' wake up every reckless fule that goes driftin' by."
"Of course not. But maybe he's not asleep," Ruth said quickly. "Maybehe's hurt. Maybe he has fainted. Why, a dozen things might havehappened!"
"An' a dozen things might _not_ have happened," said old Jabez Potter,coolly retying the painter.
"Uncle! we mustn't do that!" cried his niece. "We must go out in thepunt and make sure all is right with that boat."
"Who says so?" demanded the miller.
"Of course we must. I'll go with you. Come, do! There is somebody indanger."
Ruth Fielding, as she spoke, leaped into the punt. Tom would have beenglad to go with her, but she had motioned him back before he couldspeak. She was ashamed to have the miller so display the mean side ofhis nature before her friends.
Grumblingly he climbed into the heavy boat after her. Tom cast off andRuth pushed the boat's nose upstream, then settled herself to one of theoars while Uncle Jabez took the other.
"Huh! they ain't anything in it for us," grumbled Mr. Potter as the puntslanted toward mid-stream.