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

And that was the way to get to them, too. For the story of the tempest the day before, and the appearance of Sadie Raby, the runaway, and her reunion with the twins, naturally came into the tale Ruth had to tell – a tale that was eagerly listened to and as greatly enjoyed by the Darrowtown seamstress, as one can well imagine.

“Just like a book – or a movie,” sighed Miss Pettis, shaking her head. “It’s really wonderful, Ruthie Fielding, what’s happened to you since you left us here in Darrowtown. But, I always said, this town is dead and nothing really happens here!”

“But it’s lovely in Darrowtown,” declared Ruth. “And just to think! Those Raby children lived here once.”

“No?”

“Yes they did. Sadie was six or seven years old, I guess, when they left here. Tom Raby was her father. He was a mason’s helper – ”

“Don’t you tell me another thing about ’em!” cried Miss Pettis, starting up suddenly. “Now you remind me. I remember them well. Mis’ Raby was as nice a woman as ever stepped – but weakly. And Tom Raby —

“Why, how could I forget it? And after that man from Canady came to trace ’em, too, only three years ago. Didn’t you ever hear of it, Ruth?”

“What man?” asked Ruth, quite bewildered now. “Are – are you sure it was the same family? And who would want to trace them?”

“Lemme see. Listen!” commanded Miss Pettis. “You answer me about these poor children.”

And under the seamstress’s skillful questioning Ruth related every detail she knew about the Raby orphans – and Mr. Steele, in her presence, had cross-questioned Sadie exhaustively the evening before. The story lost nothing in Ruth’s telling, for she had a retentive memory.

“My goodness me, Ruthie!” ejaculated the spinster, excitedly. “It’s the same folks – sure. Why, do you know, they came from Quebec, and there’s some property they’ve fell heir to – property from their mother’s side – Oh, let me tell you! Funny you never heard us talkin’ about that Canady lawyer while you was livin’ here with me. My!”

CHAPTER XX – THE RABY ROMANCE

Miss True Pettis thrilled with the joy of telling the romance. The little seamstress had been all her life entertaining people with the dry details of unimportant neighborhood happenings. It was only once in a long while that a story like that of the Rabys’ came within her ken.

“Why, do you believe me!” she said to Ruth, “that Mis’ Raby came of quite a nice family in Quebec. Not to say Tom Raby wasn’t a fine man, for he was, but he warn’t educated much and his trade didn’t bring ’em more’n a livin’. But her folks had school teachers, and doctors, and even ministers in their family – yes, indeed!

“And it seems like, so the Canady lawyer said, that a minister in the family what was an uncle of Mis’ Raby’s, left her and her children some property. It was in what he called ‘the fun’s’ – that’s like stocks an’ bonds, I reckon. But them Canadians talk different from us.

“Well, I can remember that man – tall, lean man he was, with a yaller mustache. He had traced the Rabys to Darrowtown, and he saw the minister, and Deacon Giles, and Amoskeag Lanfell, askin’ did they know where the Rabys went when they moved away from here.

“I was workin’ for Amoskeag’s wife that day, so I heard all the talk,” pursued Miss Pettis. “He said – this Canady lawyer did – that the property amounted to several thousand dollars. It was left by the minister (who had no family of his own) to his niece, Mis’ Raby, or to her children if she was dead.

“Course they asked me if I knowed what became of the family,” said the spinster, with some pride. “It bein’ well known here in Darrowtown that I’m most as good as a parish register – and why wouldn’t I be? Everybody expects me to know all the news. But if I ever did know where them Rabys went, I’d forgot, and I told the lawyer man so.

“But he give me his card and axed me to write to him if I ever heard anything further from ’em, or about ’em. And I certain sure would have done so,” declared Miss Pettis, “if it had ever come to my mind.”

“Have you the gentleman’s card now, Miss True?” asked Ruth, eagerly.

“I s’pect so.”

“Will you find it? I know Mr. Steele is interested in the Rabys, and he can communicate with this Canadian lawyer – ”

“Now! ain’t you a bright girl?” cried the spinster. “Of course!”

She at once began to hustle about, turning things out of her bureau drawers, searching the cubby holes of an old maple “secretary” that had set in the corner of the kitchen since her father’s time, discovering things which she had mislaid for years – and forgotten – but not coming upon the card in question right away.

“Of course I’ve got it,” she declared. “I never lose anything – I never throw a scrap of anything away that might come of use – ”

And still she rummaged. Tom came back with the cart and Ruth had to go shopping. “But do look, Miss Pettis,” she begged, “and we’ll stop again before we go back to the farm.”

Tom and she were some time selecting a dozen timely, funny, and attractive nicknacks for the fresh airs. But they succeeded at last, and Ruth was sure the girls would be pleased with their selections.

“So much better than spending the money for noise and a powder smell,” added Ruth.

“Humph! the kids would like the noise all right,” sniffed Tom. “I heard those little chaps begging Mr. Caslon for punk and firecrackers. That old farmer was a boy himself once, and I bet he got something for them that will smell of powder, beside the little tad of fireworks he showed me.”

“Oh! I hope they won’t any of them get burned.”

“Kind of put a damper on the ‘safe and sane Fourth’ Mr. Steele spoke about, eh?” chuckled Tom.

Miss Pettis was looking out of the window and smiling at them when they arrived back at the cottage. She held in her hand a yellowed bit of pasteboard, which she passed to the eager Ruth.

“Where do you suppose I found it, Ruthie?” she demanded.

“I couldn’t guess.”

“Why, stuck right into the corner of my lookin’-glass in my bedroom. I s’pose I have handled it every day I’ve dusted that glass for three year, an’ then couldn’t remember where it was. Ain’t that the beatenes’?”

Ruth and Tom drove off in high excitement. She had already told Master Tom all about the Raby romance – such details as he did not already know – and now they both looked at the yellowed business card before Ruth put it safely away in her pocket:

Mr. Angus MacDorough

Solicitor

13, King Crescent, Quebec

“Mr. Steele will go right ahead with this, I know,” said Tom, nodding. “He’s taken a fancy to those kids – ”

“Well! he ought to, to Sadie!” cried Ruth.

“Sure. And he’s a generous man, after all. Too bad he’s taken such a dislike to old Caslon.”

“Oh, dear, Tom! we ought to fix that,” sighed Ruth.

“Crickey! you’d tackle any job in the world, I believe, Ruthie, if you thought you could help folks.”

“Nonsense! But both of them – both Mr. Steele and Mr. Caslon – are such awfully nice people – ”

“Well! there’s not much hope, I guess. Mr. Steele’s lawyer is trying to find a flaw in Caslon’s title. It seems that, way back, a long time ago, some of the Caslons got poor, or careless, and the farm was sold for taxes. It was never properly straightened out – on the county records, anyway – and the lawyer is trying to see if he can’t buy up the interest of whoever bought the farm in at that time – or their heirs – and so have some kind of a basis for a suit against old Caslon.”

“Goodness! that’s not very clear,” said Ruth, staring.

“No. It’s pretty muddy. But you know how some lawyers are. And Mr. Steele is willing to hire the shyster to do it. He thinks it’s all right. It’s business.”

“Your father wouldn’t do such a thing, Tom!” cried Ruth.

“No. I hope he wouldn’t, anyway,” said Master Tom, wagging his head. “But I couldn’t say that to Bobbins when he told me about it, could I?”