Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm; What Became of the Raby Orphans

Yes. They was all from the same asylum. There were lots more of boys and girls in that same place. But only twelve could get to go to this place where they were going. They knew boys that went to Mr. Caslon’s last year.

“Don’t we, Dickie?”

“Yep.”

No. They didn’t have a mama or papa. Never had had any. But they had a sister. She was a big girl and had gone away from the asylum. Some time, when they were big enough, they were going to run away from the asylum and find her.

“Ain’t we, Dickie?”

“Yep.”

Whether the other ten “fresh airs” were as funny and cute as the “terrible twins,” or not, Ruth Fielding did not know, but both she and Mrs. Steele were vastly amused by them, and continued to be so all the way to the old homestead under the hill where the children had come to spend a part of the summer with Mr. and Mrs. Caslon.

CHAPTER XIV – “WHY! OF COURSE!”

“I hope you told that Caslon woman, Mother, to keep those brats from boiling over upon our premises,” said Mr. Steele, cheerfully, at dinner that evening, when the story of the day’s adventures was pretty well told.

“Really, John, I had no time. Such a crowd of eels – Well! whatever she may deserve,” said Mrs. Steele, shaking her head, “I am sure she does not deserve the trouble those fresh air children will bring her. And she – she seems like such a nice old lady.”

“Who’s a nice old lady?” demanded her husband, from the other end of the long table, rather sharply.

“Farmer Caslon’s wife.”

“Humph! I don’t know what she is; I know what he is, however. No doubt of that. He’s the most unreasonable – ”

“Well, they’ll have their hands full with all those young ones,” laughed Madge Steele, breaking in upon her father, perhaps because she did not wish him to reveal any further to her guests his ideas upon this topic.

“What under the sun can they do it for?” demanded Lluella Fairfax.

“Just think of troubling one’s self with a parcel of ill-bred children like those orphanage kids,” added Belle Tingley.

“Oh, they do it just to bother the neighbors, of course,” growled Bobbins, who naturally believed all his father said, or thought, to be just right.

“They take a world of trouble on themselves, then, to spite their neighbors,” laughed Mercy Curtis, in her sharp way. “That’s cutting one’s nose off to spite one’s face, sure enough!”

“Goodness only knows why they do it,” began Madge, when Ruth, who could keep in no longer, now the topic had become generally discussed among the young people, exclaimed:

“Both the farmer and his wife look to be very kindly and jolly sort of people. I am sure they have no idea of troubling other folk with the children they take to board. They must be, I think, very charitable, as well as very fond of children.”

“Trust Ruth for seeing the best side of it,” laughed Heavy.

“And the right side, too, I bet,” murmured Tom Cameron.

“We’ll hope so,” said Mr. Steele, rather grimly. “But if Caslon lets them trespass on my land, he’ll hear about it, sharp and plenty!”

Now, it so happened, that not twenty-four hours had passed before the presence of the “fresh air kids” was felt upon the sacred premises of Sunrise Farm. It was very hot that next day, and the girls remained in the shade, or played a desultory game of tennis, or two, or knocked the croquet balls around a bit, refusing to go tramping through the woods with the boys to a pond where it was said the fish would bite.

“So do the mosquitoes – I know them,” said Mercy Curtis, when the boys started. “Be honest about it, now; I bet you get ten mosquito bites to every fish-bite. Tell us when you get back.”

Late in the afternoon the rural mail carrier was due and Ruth, Helen, Madge and Heavy started for the gate on the main road where the Steeles had their letter box.

A little woolly dog ran after Madge – her mother’s pet. “Come on, Toodles!” she said, and then all four girls started to race with Toodles down to the gate.

Suddenly Toodles spied something more entertaining to bark at and caper about than the girls’ skirts. A cat was slipping through the bushes beside the wall, evidently on the trail of some unconscious bird. Toodles, uttering a glad “yap, yap, yap!” started for the cat.

Two tousled, curly heads appeared at the gateway. Below the uncapped heads were two thin bodies just of a size, clothed in shirts and overalls of blue.

“Hello, kiddies!” said Heavy. “How did you get here?”

“On our feet – didn’t we, Dickie?” responded Master Willie.

“Yep,” said Dickie.

“Oh, dear me! Toodles will hurt that cat!” cried Madge. “One of you boys run and save her – save kitty!” she begged.

But as the youngsters started off as per direction, the cat turned savagely upon Toodles. She snarled like a wildcat, leaped for his fur-covered back, and laid in with her claws in a way that made the pup yell with fright and pain.

“Oh, never mind the cat! Help Toodles! Help Toodles!” wailed Madge, seeing her pet in such dire trouble.

The youngsters stopped with disgust, as Toodles went kiting up the hill, yelping.

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Willie. “Toodles don’t need helpin’. Did’ye ever see such a dog? What he needs is a nurse – don’t he, Dickie?”

“Yep,” declared the oracular Dickie, with emphasis.

Heavy dropped down on the grass and rolled. As the cat had quickly returned from the chase, Madge and Helen joined her. It was too funny. The “terrible twins” were just slipping out of the gate, when Ruth called to them.

“Don’t go yet, boys. Are you having a good time?”

“We ain’t allowed in here,” said Willie.

“Who told you so?”

“The short, fat man with the squinty eyes and the cane,” declared Willie, in a matter of fact way.

“Short – fat – squinty – My goodness! I wonder if he can mean my father?” exclaimed Madge, inclined to be offended.

“But you can stand there and talk with us,” said Ruth, strolling toward the boys. “So you are having a nice time at Mr. Caslon’s?”

“Bully – ain’t we, Dickie?”

“Yep,” agreed the echo.

“And you won’t be glad to go back to the orphanage when you have to leave here?”

“Say, who ever was glad to go to a ’sylum?” demanded Willie, with scorn.

“And you can’t remember any other home, either of you?” asked Ruth, with pity.