The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1935-09-02
Ruth had exactly a dollar ard IL cents. She counted it several times.

ach.
She began to imagine how nice
it would be if a motherly looking
woman would get on the bus and
sit down beside her and open a
lunch box. "And offer me some of
everything" she thought raptur-
ously. "Deviled eggs and ham sand
wicheS and chocolate cake"
She had to quit thinking about it.
An hour or two later the driver
half-turned and spoke to her out of
the corner of his mouth: you'll
have to get off at the next stop
Ruth leaned toward him. why
can't you take me in to Cleveland?"
she asked. There's room, and I'm
not doing any harm sitting here
I've already carried you 40 miles
beyond your fare" he told her.
There's been room so far. But look
what's coming! 1 can't let you keep
a seat from a paying passenger"
II II n
THE bus was at a standStill be-
l. fore a town depot, and persons
we're getting on. Ruth said, IF
there's one seat left can I stay?"
She was counting, prayerfully,
Five persons getting on" she re-
ported in a polite, pleading voice,
and five seats"
"All right" He shrugged his
tired shoulders. But when n
more gets on, off you go!" The
car began to move.
Again Ruth relaxed. A storm
was coming up and the bus seemed
cOzy and secure as it passed
through the streets of the self-cen-
tered little city. Out there persons
we're hurrying and scurrying before
the gusts of wind and the sudden
flares of lightning. Within the bus
was security.
But on the towns edge the bus
halted. A man vas standing, wait
ing to get on. The driver said to
Ruth Woodson, Well, here we
are! Pull yourself together, kid,
and hop off," He seemed r%egretful.
Ruth got off, and the passenger
got on. She held her head high as
the bus drove away. She even
raised her hand in jaunty salute to
the driver. But she was %Shivering.
1t was as if a coy little house had
been lifted from over her head by
a cyclone, leaving her stranded and
%shelterless.
She looked around her. She was
in the suburbs of a strange, old
fashioned town, made more gloomy
by the breaking storm. A flash of
lightning rent the air with terrific
brightness. The crashing thunder
that followed seemed to open the
hOodgates for the rain. 1t began
to pour in wind-driven sheets.
Just beyond an iron fence Ruth
saw a huge, tall old house of dingy
stone set in a tangled lawn. A
refuge. She opened a creaking
gate and ran up the grass-grown
walk. head bowed against the rain.
She pounded upon the door with
her two small, frantic fists, her
body plastered there by the driv-
ing storm. Yet even in this exc
tremity she noticed something
strange She noticed that the
great, carved door IA clearly
painted a brilliant blue.
IT seemed to Ruth that the storm
Il must break and bruise her there
against the closed door of that
great, gaunt house. Her clothes
were drenched and limp. Her heart
was pounding strangely. Her head
felt light. The footsteps that she
heard beyond the door sounded hol-
low and unreal as they drew
nearer.
The door opened a crack and a
thin old woman. with peering eyes
and bent back, stepped out. Before
a word had passed between them,
Ruth knew that she was going to
faint. AS she crumpled to the floor
she could hear the old woman run-
ming across the porch and calling
frantically. 1t sounded like Mister
John! Mister John!"
When she opened her eyes she
was lying on a strange oed in a
strange room. Her head was spin
ming like a top that is slowly run
ming down.
On one side of the bed stood the
bent old woman, like a wizened
statue. At the foot of the bed stood
a young man with a body like a
football player and a face that she
might have dreamed. 1t was strong
and humorous and sure of itself.
The chin was square. the brow
broad. She could not tell the color
Of the hair or the eyes, but the
former was rumpled and the latter
were smiling at her.
The old woman leaned over her.
Are you stronger now, Miss
Elaine?" she asked.
I'm fine" Ruth said brightly.
Just fine" And then she felt her
self floating away again.
Beyond the range Of her con-
sciouSneSs a cracked old voice was
saying. Lord help us. young John
McNeill! What's to be done?"
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ITO Be Continued