The Corner House Girls' Odd Find Part 6

"She ought to have a year-perhaps two-away from all bothersome things,"

said Dr. Forsyth, preparing to go. "I'd like to have her go away, and her sister with her for a time, to some quiet place, and to a more invigorating climate. And _that_-well, we doctors can prescribe such medicine for our rich patients only," and Dr. Forsyth went away, shaking his head.

Ruth said nothing to the other girls about this bad report upon Miss Pepperill's condition. They all were interested in Mrs. Eland's sister-more for Mrs. Eland's sake, it must be confessed, than because of any sweetness of disposition that had ever been displayed by the red-haired school teacher.

The two women had lived very unhappy lives. Left orphans at an early age, they were separated, and Miss Pepperill was brought up by people who treated her none too kindly. She was trained as a teacher and had never married; whereas Mrs. Eland was widowed young, had become a nurse, and finally had come to be matron of the Milton Women's and Children's Hospital in the very town where her sister taught school.

The coming together of the sisters, after Miss Pepperill was knocked down by an automobile on the street, seemed quite a romance to the Corner House girls, and they had been vastly interested for some weeks in the affairs of the matron and the school teacher.

The little girls, Tess and Dot, were too much excited over what the eve of Christmas, and the day itself should bring forth, to be much disturbed by even Ruth's grave face.

When they ate dinner that night, in the light of the candles, it seemed as though they ate in a fairy grotto. The big dining room was beautifully trimmed, the lights sparkled upon the newly polished silver and cut gla.s.s, a beautiful damask tablecloth was on the board, and the girls in their fresh frocks and ribbons were a delight to the eye.

Dot could not keep her eyes off the open fireplace. Branches of pine had now been set up in the yawning cavern of brick; but plenty of room had been left for the entrance of a Santa Claus of most excellent girth.

"Dot's expecting another Santa-or a burglar-to tumble down the chimney at any moment," laughed Agnes.

"Let us hope he won't be a plumber," said Ruth, smiling gravely.

"Another plumber's bill at Christmas would extract all the joy from our festivities."

"Oh! What will Mr. Howbridge say when he sees the bill?" queried Agnes, round-eyed, for she stood somewhat in awe of their very dignified guardian.

"I don't much care what he'll say," said Ruth, recklessly. "Only I wish he were going to be with us to-morrow as he was at Thanksgiving. But he will not be back until long past New Year's."

Before they rose from the table the doorbell began to ring and Uncle Rufus hobbled out to answer it and to receive mysterious packages addressed to the various members of the family. These gifts were heaped in the sitting room, and Tess and Dot were not even allowed a peep at them.

Neale came over and lit up the tree, to the delight of the little girls.

The Creamer girls from next door came in to see it, and so did Margaret and Holly Pease from down Willow Street.

Sammy Pinkney had been told he could come; but the red comforter and the hoa.r.s.e voice had not been for nothing. Mrs. Pinkney sent over word that Sammy had such a cold that she was forced to put him to bed. He was feverish, too; so his Christmas Eve was spent between blankets.

"Oh! I'm so sorry for Sammy," Dot said, feasting her eyes upon the glittering tree. "I know he won't ever see anything so pretty as this."

"Not if he turns pirate, he won't," Tess agreed severely. "I think likely his being sick is a punishment for his saying that there isn't any Santa Claus."

The visiting little girls went home and Tess and Dot were sent off to bed. Not that they were sleepy-oh, no, indeed! They declared that they positively could _not_ sleep-and then were in the Land of Nod almost before their heads touched the pillow.

Ruth kissed them both after she had heard their prayers, and then tiptoed out of the room. Downstairs was suppressed laughter and much running about. Agnes and Neale were beginning to tie the presents on the tree, and to fill the stockings hung on a line across the chimney-place.

Everybody-even Uncle Rufus-had hung up a stocking for Santa Claus to fill with goodies. It had cost infinite labor and urging to get Aunt Sarah to put her stocking in evidence for Kris Kringle; but there it was, a shapeless white affair with unbleached foot and top.

Mrs. MacCall's hung next-rather a natty looking black stocking, if the truth were known-one of a pair, the mate to which had long since been eaten by Billy b.u.mps, the goat.

Then came the girls' stockings in one-two-three-four order, like a graduated course of bamboo "bells." Then followed one of Neale's golf stockings, which he had brought because it held more than a sock, with Linda's coa.r.s.e red woollen hose and Uncle Rufus' huge gray yarn sock at the end.

It was great fun to fill the hose and to tie the wonderfully curious packages on the tree and heap them underneath it. Neale was to get all his presents at the Corner House; so that added to the confusion. There was a special corner in the sitting room where Neale's gifts had been hidden; and there he was supposed not to look.

Then Agnes had to go into the kitchen while her presents were being unearthed and properly hung. Last of all, Ruth retired, leaving Agnes and Neale to hang those gifts which the Good Saint had brought the eldest sister. Ruth was tired, for she had worked hard; so she went to sleep and had no idea how long her sister sat up, when Neale went home, or at what hour Mrs. MacCall locked the house and went up to bed.

Agnes and Neale had something besides the hanging of Ruth's presents to interest them. The former found the big, old family alb.u.m hidden behind the sewing machine in the sitting room. She sat down with Neale to look it over.

CHAPTER VI

TREASURE TROVE

"Why! Did you ever!" gasped Agnes Kenway.

"Thought you said it was a family photograph alb.u.m!" said Neale O'Neil.

With their heads close together they were looking into the moth-eaten and battered book Agnes had found in the old Corner House garret. On turning the first page a yellowed and time-stained doc.u.ment met their surprised gaze.

There was a picture engraved upon the doc.u.ment, true enough. Such an ornate certificate, or whatever it might be, Agnes or Neale had never even seen before.

"'The Pittsburg & Washington Railroad Co.,'" read Neale, slowly. "Whew!

Calls for a thousand dollars-good at any bank."

"Sandbank, I guess it means," giggled Agnes.

But Neale was truly puzzled. "I never saw a bond before, did you, Aggie?"

"A bond! What kind of a bond?"

"Why, the kind this is supposed to be."

"Why, is it a bond?"

"Goodness! you repeat like a parrot," snapped Neale.

"And you're as polite as a-a pirate," declared Agnes.

"Well, did you ever see anything like this?"

"No. And of course, it isn't worth the paper it's printed on. You know very well, Neale, that people don't leave money around-loose-like _this_!"

"This isn't money; it only calls for money," said the boy.

"I guess it never called very loud for it," giggled Agnes.

"Must be stage money, then," laughed Neale. "Hi! here's more of it."

He had turned a leaf. There was another of the broad, important looking doc.u.ments pasted in the old book.

"And good for another thousand dollars!" gasped Agnes.

"Phony-phony," chuckled Neale, meaning that the certificates were counterfeit.