Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall; or, Solving the Campus Mystery

by Alice B. Emerson

  CHAPTER II

  THE MAN WHO PLAYED THE HARP

  In the first volume of this series, entitled, "Ruth Fielding of the RedMill; Or, Jasper Parloe's Secret," is related how Ruth and Helen andTom came to be such close friends. The Camerons had been with Ruthwhen the lost cash-box belonging to Uncle Jabez Potter was found, andout of which incident Ruth's presence in the Camerons' automobile onthis beautiful September morning, and the fact that she wasaccompanying Helen to school, arose.

  Mr. Macy Cameron, a wealthy dry-goods merchant, and a widower, hadselected the best school for his daughter to attend of which he couldlearn. Briarwood Hall, of which the preceptress was Mrs. GraceTellingham, was a large school (there being more than two hundredscholars in attendance for the coming term), but it remained "select"in the truest sense of the word. It was not an institutionparticularly for the daughters of wealthy people, nor a school to whichdisheartened parents could send either unruly girls, or dunces.

  Without Mrs. Murchiston's recommendation Helen Cameron could not havegained entrance to Briarwood; without the attested examination papersof Miss Cramp, teacher of the district school, who had prepared Ruthfor entering Cheslow High School before it was supposed that she couldgo to Briarwood, the girl from the Red Mill would not have beenstarting on this journey.

  "My goodness me!" exclaimed Helen, when Ruth had sat down and Cheslowwas coming into view before them. "I'm just as excited as I can be.Aren't you afraid of meeting Mrs. Tellingham? She's got an A. B. afterher name. And her husband is a doctor of almost everything you canthink!"

  Mrs. Murchiston smiled, but said with some sternness; "I really hope,Helen, that Briarwood will quell your too exuberant spirits to adegree. But you need not be afraid of Dr. Tellingham. He is themildest old gentleman one ever saw. He is doubtless engaged upon ahistory of the Mound Builders of Peoria County, Illinois; or upon apamphlet suggested by the finding of a fossilized man in the caves ofArizona."

  "Is he a great writer, Mrs. Murchiston?" asked Ruth, wonderingly.

  "He has written a great many histories--if that constitutes being agreat writer," replied the governess, with a quiet smile. "But if itwas not for Mrs. Tellingham I fear that Briarwood Hall could not exist.However, the doctor is a perfectly harmless person."

  From this Ruth drew the conclusion (for she was a thoughtfulgirl--thoughtful beyond her years, as well as imaginative) that Mrs.Grace Tellingham was a rather strong-minded lady and that the doctorwould prove to be both mild and "hen-pecked."

  The car sped along the beautifully shaded road leading into Cheslow;but there was still ample time for the travelers to catch the train.On the right hand, as they advanced, appeared a gloomy-looking housewith huge pillars upholding the portico roof, which was set somedistance back from the road. On two posts, one either side of thearched gateway, were set green lanterns. A tall, stoop-shouldered oldgentleman, with a sweeping mustache and hair that touched his coatcollar, and a pair of keen, dark eyes, came striding down the walk tothe street as the motor-car drew near.

  "Doctor Davison!" cried Helen and Ruth together.

  The chauffeur slowed down and stopped as the doctor waved his hand.

  "I must bid you girls good-bye here," he said, coming to the automobileto shake hands. "I have a call and cannot be at the station. And Iexpect all of you to do your best in your studies. But look out foryour health, too. Take plenty of gym work, girls. Tom, you rascal! Iwant to hear of you standing just as well in athletics as you do inyour books. Ah! if Mercy was going with you, I'd think the party quitecomplete."

  "What do you hear from her, Doctor?" questioned Ruth, eagerly.

  "My little Goody Two-sticks is hopping around pretty lively. She willcome home in a few days. Too bad she cannot see you before you go.But then--perhaps you'll see her, after all."

  "What do you mean?" demanded Helen, looking sharply at the physician."You're hiding something. I can see it! You've got something up yoursleeve, Doctor!"

  "Quite so--my wrist!" declared the physician, and now, having shakenhands all around, he hurried away, looking vastly mysterious.

  "Now, what do you suppose he meant by that?" demanded Helen. "I'msuspicious of him. He's always bringing unexpected things about. Andpoor Mercy Curtis----"

  "If she could only go to Briarwood with us," sighed Ruth.

  "She would make you and Helen hustle in your work, all right," declaredTom, looking over the back of his seat. "She's the smartest littlething that I ever saw."

  "That's what Dr. Davison says," Ruth observed. "If the surgeons haveenabled her to walk again, and dispense with the wheel chair, whycouldn't she come to Briarwood?"

  "I don't think Sam Curtis is any too well fixed," said Tom, shaking hishead. "And Mercy's long illness has been a great expense to them.Hello! here we are at the station, with plenty of time to spare."

  Mrs. Murchiston was not going with them; the trio of young folk were totravel alone, so Tom took the tickets, got the trunk checks, andotherwise played escort to the two girls. There were several friendsat the station to bid the Camerons good-bye; but there was nobody butthe stationmaster to say a word to Ruth Fielding. It was his lamedaughter whom they had been discussing with Dr. Davison--an unfortunategirl who had taken a strong liking for Ruth, and for whom the girl fromthe Red Mill, with her cheerful spirit and pleasant face, had done aworld of good.

  The train was made up and they got aboard. Just below Cheslow was theY where this train branched off the main line, and took its way by asingle-track, winding branch, through the hills to the shore of LakeOsago. But the young folks did not have to trouble about their baggageafter leaving Cheslow, for that was checked through--Tom's grip and boxto Seven Oaks, and the girls' over another road, after crossing LakeOsago, to Lumberton, on Triton Lake.

  Lake Osago was a beautiful body of water, some thirty miles long, andwide in proportion; island-dotted and bordered by a rolling country.There were several large towns upon its shores, and, in one place, agreat summer camp of an educational society. Steamboats plied thelake, and up and down the rivers which either emptied into the Osago,or flowed out of it, as far as the dams.

  The trio of school-bound young folk left the train very demurely andwalked down the long wharf to the puffy little steamboat that was totake them the length of the lake to Portageton. Tom had been adjuredby his father to take good care of his sister and Ruth, and he felt theburden of this responsibility. Helen declared, in a whisper to Ruth,that she had never known her twin brother to be so overpoweringlypolite and thoughtful.

  Nevertheless, the fact that they were for the very first time travelingalone (at least, the Camerons had never traveled alone before) did notspoil their enjoyment of the journey. The trip down the lake on thelittle side-wheel steamer was very interesting to all three. First theCamerons and Ruth Fielding went about to see if they could find anyother girl or boy who appeared to be bound to school like themselves.But Tom said he was alone in that intention among the few boys aboard;and there were no girls upon the _Lanawaxa_, as the little steamboatwas named, save Ruth and Helen.

  Tom did not neglect the comfort of the girls, but he really could notkeep away from the engine-room of the _Lanawaxa_. Tom was mightilyinterested in all things mechanical, and in engines especially. So thegirls were left to themselves for a while upon the upper deck of thesteamboat. They were very comfortable under the awning, and had books,and their luncheon, and a box of candy that Tom had bought and given toRuth, and altogether they enjoyed the trip quite as much as anybody.

  The breeze was quite fresh and there were not many passengers on theforward deck where the girls were seated. But one lady sitting nearattracted their attention almost at first. She was such a little,doll-like lady; so very plainly and neatly dressed, yet with a styleabout her that carried the plain frock she wore, and the little hat, asthough they were both of the richest materials. She was dark, hadbrilliant eyes, and her figure was youthful. Yet, when she chanced toraise her veil,
Ruth noted that her face was marred by innumerable finewrinkles--just like cracks in the face of a wax doll that had beenexposed to frost.

  "Isn't she a cunning little thing?" whispered Helen, seeing how muchRuth was attracted by the little lady.

  "She's not a dwarf. There's nothing wrong with her," said Ruth."She's just a lady in miniature; isn't she? Why, Helen, she's notaller than you are."

  "She's dainty," repeated her chum. "But she looks odd."

  Below, on the other deck, the music of a little orchestra had beentinkling pleasantly. Now a man with the harp, another with a violin,and a third with a huge guitar, came up the companionway and groupedthemselves to play upon the upper deck. The three musicians were allforeigners--French or Italian. The man who played the harp was a huge,fleshy man, with a red waistcoat and long, black mustache. Thewaistcoat and mustache were the two most noticeable things about him.He sat on a little campstool while he played.

  The musicians struck into some rollicking ditty that pleased the ear.The two girls enjoyed the music, and Helen searched her purse for acoin to give whichever of the musicians came around for the collectionat the end of the concert. There was but one person on the forwarddeck who did not seem to care for the music. The little lady, whoseback was to the orchestra, did not even look around.

  All the time he was playing the huge man who thrummed the harp seemedto have his eyes fixed upon the little lady. This both Ruth and Helennoted. He was so big and she was so fairy-like, that the girls couldnot help becoming interested in the fact that the harpist was so deeply"smitten."

  "Isn't he funny?" whispered Helen to Ruth. "He's so big and she's solittle. And he pays more attention to her than he does to playing thetune."

  Just then the orchestra of three pieces finished its third tune. Thatwas all it ever jingled forth before making a collection. The man whoplayed the guitar slipped the broad strap over his shoulders and stoodup as though to pass his cap. But instantly the huge harpist arose andmuttered something to him in a guttural tone. The other sat down andthe big man seized the cap and began to move about the deck to makesuch collection as the audience was disposed to give for the music.

  Although he had stared so at the unconscious lady's back, the big mandid not go in her direction at first, as the two girls quite expectedhim to do. He went around to the other side of the deck after takingHelen's toll, and so manoeuvred as to come to the end of the lady'sbench and suddenly face her.

  "See him watch her, Ruth?" whispered Helen again. "I believe he knowsher."

  There was such a sly smile on the fat man's face that he seemed to behaving a joke all to himself; yet his eyebrows were drawn down over hisnose in a scowl. It was not a pleasant expression that he carried onhis countenance to the little lady, before whom he appeared with asuddenness that would have startled almost anybody. He wheeled aroundthe end of the settee on which she sat and hissed some word or phrasein her ear, leaning over to do so.

  The little woman sprang up with a smothered shriek. The girls heardher chatter something, in which the word "_merci_" was plain. Sheshrank from the big man; but he was only bowing very low before her,with the cap held out for a contribution, and his grinning face aside.

  "She is French," whispered Helen, excitedly, in Ruth's ear. "And hespoke in the same language. How frightened she is!"

  Indeed, the little lady fumbled in her handbag for something which shedropped into the insistent cap of the harpist. Then, almost runningalong the deck, she whisked into the cabin. She had pulled the veilover her face again, but as she passed the girls they felt quite surethat she was sobbing.

  The big harpist, with the same unpleasant leer upon his face, rolleddown the deck in her wake, carelessly humming a fragment of the tune hehad just been playing. He had collected all the contributions in hisbig hand--a pitiful little collection of nickels and dimes--and hetossed them into the air and caught them expertly as he joined theother players. Then all three went aft to repeat their concert.

  An hour later the _Lanawaxa_ docked at Portageton. When our youngfriends went ashore and walked up the freight-littered wharf, Ruthsuddenly pulled Helen's sleeve.

  "Look there! There--behind the bales of rags going to the paper-mill.Do you see them?" whispered Ruth.

  "I declare!" returned her chum. "Isn't that mysterious? It's thelittle foreign lady and the big man who played the harp--and howearnestly they are talking."

  "You see, she knew him after all," said Ruth. "But what awicked-looking man he is! And she _was_ frightened when he spoke toher."

  "He looks villainous enough to be a brigand," returned her chum,laughing. "Yet, whoever heard of a _fat_ brigand? That would take theromance all out of the profession; wouldn't it?"

  "And fat villains are not so common; are they?" returned Ruth, echoingthe laugh.