The Girl from Sunset Ranch by AMY BELL MARLOWE (best ereader for manga .TXT) 📖

Miss Jessie. Jess, they all call her. I saw her on the Westchester Links only last week and she never said a word about this."

"About coming to see Helen--it isn't possible!" cried Hortense. "Gregson, you have made a mistake."

"Hi beg your pardon--no, mem. She asked for Miss Helen. I left 'er in the reception parlor, mem----"

"She thinks one of us is named Helen!" cried Belle, suddenly. "Show her up, Gregson."

Gregson might have told her different; but he saw it would only involve him in more explanation; therefore he turned on his heel and in his usual stately manner went to lead Dud Stone's sister into the presence of the three excited girls.

Jessie by no means understood the situation at the Starkweather house between Helen and her cousins. It had never entered Miss Stone's head, in fact, that anybody could be unkind to, or dislike, "such a nice little thing as Helen Morrell."

So she greeted the Starkweather girls in her very frankest manner.

"I really am delighted to see you again, Miss Starkweather," Jess said, being met by Belle at the door. "And are these your sisters? I'm charmed, I am sure."

Hortense and Flossie were introduced. The girls sat down.

"You don't mean to say Helen isn't here?" demanded Jess. "I came particularly to invite her to dinner to-morrow night. We're going to have a little celebration and Dud and I are determined to have her with us."

"Helen?" gasped Belle.

"Not Helen Morrell?" demanded Hortense.

"Why, yes--of course--your Cousin Helen. How funny! Of course she's here? She lives with you; doesn't she?"

"Why--er--we have a--a distant relative of poor mamma's by that name," said Belle, haughtily. "She--she came here quite unexpectedly--er quite uninvited, I may say. Pa is so-o easy, you know; he won't send her away----"

"Send her away! Send Helen Morrell away?" gasped Jess Stone. "Are--are we talking about the same girl, I wonder? Why, Helen is a most charming girl--and pretty as a picture. And brave no end!

"Why, it was she who saved my brother's life when he was away out West----"

"Mr. Stone never went to Montana?" cried Flossie. "He never met Helen at Sunset Ranch?"

"Be still, Floss!" commanded Belle; but Miss Stone turned to answer the younger girl.

"Of course. Dud stopped at the ranch some days, too. He had to, for he hurt his foot. That's when Helen saved his life. He was flung from the back of a horse over the edge of a cliff and fortunately landed in the top of a tree.

"But the tree was very tall and he could not have gotten out of it safely with his wounded foot had not Helen ridden up to the brink of the precipice, thrown him a rope, and swung him out of the tree upon a ledge of rock. Then he worked his way down the side of the cliff while Helen caught his horse. But his foot hurt him so that he could never have got into the saddle alone; and Helen put him on her own pony and led the pony to the ranch house."

"Bully for Helen!" ejaculated Flossie, under her breath. Even Hortense was flushed a bit over the story. But Belle could see nothing to admire in her cousin from the West, and she only said, harshly:

"Very likely, Miss Stone. Helen seems to be a veritable hoyden. These ranch girls are so unfortunate in their bringing up and their environment. In the wilds I presume Helen may be passable; but she is quite, quite impossible here in the city----"

"I don't know what you mean by being 'impossible,'" interrupted Jess Stone. "She is a lovely girl."

"You haven't met her?" cried Belle. "It's only Mr. Stone's talk."

"I certainly have met her, Miss Starkweather. Certainly I know her--and know her well. Had I known when she was coming to New York I would have begged her to come to us. It is plain that her own relatives do not care much for Helen Morrell," said the very frank young lady.

"Well--we--er----"

"Why, Helen has been meeting me in the bridle-path almost every morning. And she rides wonderfully."

"Riding in Central Park!" cried Hortense.

"Why--why, the child has nothing decent to wear," declared Belle. "How could she get a riding habit--or hire a horse? I do not understand this, Miss Stone, but I can tell you right now, that Helen has nothing fit to wear to your dinner party. She came here a little pauper--with nothing fit to wear in her trunk. Pa did find money enough for a new street dress and hat for her; but he did not feel that he could support in luxury every pauper who came here and claimed relationship with him."

Miss Stone's mouth fairly hung open, and her eyes were as round as eyes could be, with wonder and surprise.

"What is this you tell me?" she murmured. "Helen Morrell a pauper?"

"I presume those people out there in Montana wanted to get the girl off their hands," said Belle, coldly, "and merely shipped her East, hoping that Pa would make provision for her. She has been a great source of annoyance to us, I do assure you."

"A source of annoyance?" repeated the caller.

"And why not? Without a rag decent to wear. With no money. Scarcely education enough to make herself intelligibly understood----"

Flossie began to giggle. But Jessie Stone rose to her feet. This volatile, talkative girl could be very dignified when she was aroused.

"You are speaking of my friend, Helen Morrell," she interrupted Belle's flow of angry language, sternly. "Whether she is your cousin, or not, she is my friend, and I will not listen to you talk about her in that way. Besides, you must be crazy if you believe your own words! Helen Morrell poor! Helen Morrell uneducated!

"Why, Helen was four years in one of the best preparatory schools of the West--in Denver. Let me tell you that Denver is some city, too. And as for being poor and having nothing to wear--Why, whatever can you mean? She owns one of the few big ranches left in the West, with thousands upon thousands of cattle and horses upon it. And her father left her all that, and perhaps a quarter of a million in cash or investments beside."

"Not Helen?" shrieked Belle, sitting down very suddenly.

"Little Helen--rich?" murmured Hortense.

"Does Helen really own Sunset Ranch?" cried Flossie, eagerly.

"She certainly does--every acre of it. Why, Dud knows all about her and all about her affairs. If you consider that girl poor and uneducated you have fooled yourselves nicely."

"I'm glad of it! I'm glad of it!" exclaimed Flossie, clapping her hands and pirouetting about the room. "Serves you right, Belle! I found out she knew a whole lot more than I did, long ago. She's been helping me with my lessons."

"And she is a nice little thing," joined in Hortense, "I don't care what you say to the contrary, Belle. She was the only one in this house that showed me any real sympathy when I was sick----"

Belle only looked at her sisters, but could say nothing.

"And if Helen hasn't anything fit to wear to your party to-morrow night, I will lend her something," declared Hortense.

"You need not bother," said Jess, scornfully. "If Helen came in the plainest and most miserable frock to be found she would be welcome. Good-day to you, Miss Starkweather--and Miss Hortense--and Miss Flossie."

She swept out of the room and did not even need the gorgeous Gregson to show her to the door.

CHAPTER XXVII (THE PARTY)

 

Helen chanced that evening to be entering the area door just as Mr. Starkweather himself was mounting the steps of the mansion. Her uncle recognized the girl and scowled over the balustrade at her.

"Come to the den at once; I wish to speak to you Helen--Ahem!" he said in his most severe tones.

"Yes, sir," responded the girl respectfully, and she passed up the back stairway while Mr. Starkweather went directly to his library. Therefore he did not chance to meet either of his daughters and so was not warned of what had occurred in the house that afternoon.

"Helen," said Uncle Starkweather, viewing her with the same stern look when she approached his desk. "I must know how you have been using your time while outside of my house? Something has reached my ear which greatly--ahem!--displeases me."

"Why--I--I----" The girl was really at a loss what to say. She did not know what he was driving at and she doubted the advisability of telling Uncle Starkweather everything that she had done while here in the city as his guest.

"I was told this afternoon--not an hour ago--that you have been seen lurking about the most disreputable parts of the city. That you are a frequenter of low tenement houses; that you associate with foreigners and the most disgusting of beggars----"

"I wish you would stop, Uncle," said Helen, quickly, her face flushing now and her eyes sparkling. "Sadie Goronsky is a nice girl, and her family is respectable. And poor old Mr. Lurcher is only unfortunate and half-blind. He will not harm me."

"Beggars! Yiddish shoestring pedlars! A girl like you! Where--ahem!--where did you ever get such low tastes, girl?"

"Don't blame yourself, Uncle," said Helen, with some bitterness. "I certainly did not learn to be kind to poor people from your example. And I am sure I have gained no harm from being with them once in a while--only good. To help them a little has helped me--I assure you!"

But Mr. Starkweather listened not at all to this. "Where did you find these low companions?" he demanded.

"I met Sadie the night I arrived here in the city. The taxicab driver carried me to Madison Street instead of Madison Avenue. Sadie was kind to me. As for old Mr. Lurcher, I saw him first in Mr. Grimes's office."

Uncle Starkweather suddenly lost his color and fell back in his chair. For a moment or two he seemed unable to speak at all. Then he stammered:

"In Fenwick Grimes's office?"

"Yes, sir."

"What--what was this--ahem!--this beggar doing there?"

"If he is a beggar, perhaps he was begging. At least, Mr. Grimes seemed very anxious to get rid of him, and gave him a dollar to go away."

"And you followed him?" gasped Mr. Starkweather.

"No. I went to see Sadie, and it seems Mr. Lurcher lives right in that neighborhood. I found he needed spectacles and was half-blind and I----"

"Tell me nothing more about it! Nothing more about it!" commanded her uncle, holding up a warning hand. "I will not--ahem!--listen. This has gone too far. I gave you shelter--an act of charity, girl! And you have abused my confidence by consorting with low company, and spending your time in a mean part of the town."

"You are wrong, sir. I have done nothing of the kind," said Helen, firmly, but growing angry herself, now. "My friends are decent people, and a poor part of the city does not necessarily mean a criminal part."

"Hush! How dare you contradict me?" demanded her uncle. "You shall go home. You shall go back to the West at once! Ahem! At once. I could not assume the responsibility of your presence here in my house any longer."

"Then I will find a position and support myself, Uncle Starkweather. I have told you I could do that before."

"No, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Starkweather, at once. "I will not allow it. You