CHAPTER XV--THE RIDE TO HOLLOWAYS

Being kept indoors by the rain was not altogether a privation. At least, the three girls staying at the Big House did not find it such.

They became acquainted with Mammy Dilsey during that first day of rain. At least, the girls from the North did; Nettie had been a pet of the old woman for years.

Dilsey was full of old-time stories--just such stories as were calculated to enthrall girls of the age of Ruth Fielding and her friends. For even Ruth, with all her good sense and soberness, loved to hear of pretty ladies, in pretty frocks, and with beautifully dressed gentlemen dancing attendance upon them, such as in the old times often filled Merredith House.

Mammy Dilsey insisted she could remember when men really dressed in satin and lace, and wore wonderfully fluted shirt-bosoms, and fine linen and broadcloth. The pre-Civil War ladies, of course, with their crinolines, and tiny bonnets, and enormous shade-hats must have looked really beautiful. The girls listened to the tales of the parties at the Big House almost breathlessly.

"An' dat time de Gov'nor come--de _two_ Gov'nors come," sighed Mammy Dilsey. "De Gov'nor ob No'th Ca'lina an' de Gov'nor ob So'th Ca'lina----"

"I know what they _said_ to each other--those two governors," interrupted Helen, her eyes dancing. "My father told me."

"I dunno wot dey _said_," said Mammy Dilsey, who did not know the old joke. "But I sho' knows how dey _looked_. Dey was bof such big, upstandin' sort o' men. My-oh-my! Ah tells yo', chillen, dey was a big _breed_ o' men in dese pahts in dem days--sho' was.

"Ma Miss Rachel, she been a li'le tinty gal in dem days. Ah car's her in ma arms 'mos' de time. Her maw was weakly-like. An' I could walk up an' down de end o' dis big verandah wid dat mite ob a baby, an' see all dat went on.

"My-oh-my! de splendid car'ages, an' de beautiful horses, an' de fine ladies an' gemmen--dere nebber'll be nothin' like it fo' ol' Mammy Dilsey t' see ag'in twill she gits t' dat Hebenly sho' an' see dat angel band wot de Good Book talks about."

Incidents of this great party at the Merredith plantation, and of other famous entertainments there, were still as fresh in Mammy Dilsey's mind as the occurrences of yesterday.

"Oh, goodness," sighed Helen, "there never will be any fun for girls again. And nowadays the boys only care to go to baseball games, or to go hunting and fishing. They refuse to come at _our_ beck and call as they used to in these times Mammy Dilsey tells about."

"I guess we make _ourselves_ too much like _them_selves," laughed Ruth. "That's why the boys of to-day are different. If chivalry is dead, we women folks have killed it."

"I don't see why," pouted Helen.

"Oh, my dear!" cried her chum. "You want to have your cake and eat it, too. It can't be done. If we girls want the boys to be gallant and dance attendance on us, and cater to our whims--as they certainly did in our grandmothers' days--we must not be rough and ready friends with them: play golf, tennis, swim, run, bat balls, and--and talk slang--the equal of our boy friends in every particular."

"You're so funny, Ruthie," laughed Nettie.

"Lecture by Miss Ruth Fielding, the famous woman's rights advocate," groaned Helen.

"I am not sure I advocate it, my dear," sighed Ruth. "'I, too, would love and live in Arcady.'"

"Goodness! hear her exude sentiment," gasped Helen. "Who ever thought to live till _that_ wonder was born?"

"Maybe, after all, Ruth has the right idea," said Nettie, timidly. "My cousin Mapes says that he finds lots of girls who are 'good fellows'; but that when he marries he doesn't want to marry a 'good fellow,' but a _wife_."

"Horrid thing!" Helen declared. "I don't like your cousin Mapes, Nettie."

"I am not sure that a girl might not, after all, fill your cousin's 'bill of particulars,' if she would," Ruth said, laughing. "'Friend Wife' can still be a good comrade, and darn her husband's socks. I guess, after all, not many young fellows would want to marry the kind of girl his grandmother was."

The trio of girls did not spend all their rainy hours with Mammy Dilsey, or in such discussions as the above. Besides, now and then the sun broke through the clouds and then the whole world seemed to steam.

The girls had the big porch to exercise upon, and as soon as it promised any decided change in the weather there were plans for new activities.

Across the river was a place called Holloways--actually a small island. It was quite a resort in the summer, there being a hotel and several cottages, occupied by Georgetown and Charleston people through the hot season.

Mrs. Parsons thought that her young guests would become woefully lonely and "fair ill of Merredith," if they did not soon have some social diversion, so it was planned to go to Holloways to the weekend "hop" held by the hotel guests and cottagers.

This was nothing like a public dance. Mrs. Parsons would not have approved of that. But the little coterie of hotel guests and the neighbors arranged very pleasant parties which the mistress of the Merredith plantation was not averse to her young folks attending.

As it happened, she herself could not go. A telegram from her lawyers in Charleston called Mrs. Parsons to the city only a few hours before the time set for the party to start for Holloways.

"Now, listen!" cried Aunt Rachel. "You girls shall not be disappointed--no, indeed! Mrs. Holloway will herself act as your chaperon and will take good care of you. We should remain at her hotel over night, in any case."

"But we won't have half so much fun if you don't go, Mrs. Parsons," Helen said.

"Nonsense! nonsense! what trio of girls was ever enamored of a strict duenna like me?" and Mrs. Parsons laughed. "I'll send one of the boys on ahead with a note to Mrs. Holloway to look out for you and Jeffreys will drive you over and come after you to-morrow noon. I believe in girls sleeping till noon after a party."

"But how are you going to the station, Aunt Rachel?" cried Nettie.

"I'll ride Nordeck. And John shall ride after me and bring the horse back. Now, scatter to do your own primping, girls, and let Mammy Dilsey 'tend to me."

In half an hour Mrs. Parsons was off--such need was there for haste. She went on horseback with a single retainer, as she said, riding at her heels. Although the weather appeared to have cleared permanently, the creeks were up and Mr. Lomaine reported the river already swollen.

Mrs. Parsons had been wise to ride horseback; a carriage might not have got safely through some of the fords she would be obliged to cross between the plantation and the railroad station.

On the other hand, the girls bound for Holloways were not likely to be held back, for there were bridges instead of fords. All in their party finery, Ruth and Helen and Nettie started away from the Big House in the roomy family carriage, and with them went Norma, Nettie's own little colored maid, with her sewing kit and extra wraps.

The road to the bridge which spanned the wide river led directly past the cotton warehouse. Ruth had not been there since her conversation with Mr. Jimson; but the warehouse boss had sent her word twice that Curly Smith seemed to be contented and desired to remain.

Both of the Northern girls were extremely anxious to see the boy from Lumberton. Ruth looked every day, now, for a letter from Mrs. Sadoc Smith; and she hoped the stern old woman would relent and ask her grandson to return.

The river was, as Mr. Lomaine had said, very high. The brown, muddy current was littered with logs, uprooted trees, fence rails, pig-pens, hen houses, and other light litter wrenched from the banks during the last few days. Ruth said it looked quite as angry as the Lumano, at the Red Mill, when there was a flood.

Jeffreys had brought the carriage to a full stop on the bank overlooking the stream and the warehouse. The water surged almost level with the shipping platform. There had been a reason for Mr. Jimson's shifting all the cotton in storage to the upper end of the huge building. He had foreseen this rain and feared a flood.

Suddenly, just as Jeffreys was about to drive on, Helen uttered a scream, and pointed to a drifting hencoop.

"See! See that poor thing!" she cried.

"What's the matter now, honey?" asked Nettie. "I don't see anything."

"On the roof of that coop," Ruth said quickly espying what her chum saw. "The poor cat!"

"Where is there a cat?" cried Nettie, anxiously. She was a little near-sighted and could not focus her gaze upon the small object on the raft as quickly as the chums from the North.

"Dear me, Nettie!" cried Helen, in exasperation. "If you met a bear he'd have to bite you before you'd know he was there."

"Never mind," drawled the Southern girl, "I am not being chased and knocked down by deer----Oh! I see the poor kitty."

"I should hope you did!" Helen said. "And it's going to be drowned!"

"No, no," Ruth said. "I hope not. Can't it be brought ashore? See! that coop is swinging into an eddy."

"Well, Ruthie Fielding!" cried Helen, "you're not going to jump overboard in your party dress, and try to get that poor cat, I should hope!"

"There's a boy who can get her!" exclaimed Nettie, standing up in the carriage, and being able to see well enough to espy a figure on a small raft down by the loading dock.

"Oh, Nettie! ask him to try!" gasped Ruth.

"Hey, boy!" called Nettie. "Can't you save that poor cat for us?"

The boy turned, and both Ruth and Helen recognized the curly head--if not the shockingly ragged garments--of Henry Smith. He waved a reassuring hand and pushed off from the platform.

Mr. Jimson came running from the interior of the warehouse and shouted after him.

"There! I hope we haven't got him into more trouble," mourned Ruth.

"And he can't get the cat," wailed Helen, in a moment. "The current is taking the raft clear out into midstream."

Curly was working vigorously with the single sweep, however, and he finally brought the cumbersome craft to the edge of the eddy where the hencoop with its frightened passenger whirled under the high bank.

"Yo' kyant git that cat, you fool boy!" bawled Jimson. "And yo'll lose my raft."

"Oh, Mr. Jimson!" cried Nettie. "We do want him to save that cat if he can."

"But he'll lose a mighty good oar, an' that raft," complained the boss.

"Never mind," said Nettie, firmly. "You can make another oar and another raft. But how are you going to make another cat?"

"I'll be whip-sawed!" exclaimed the long and lanky man. "Who ever heard the like of that? There's enough cats come natcher'lly without nobody's wantin' t' make none."

The girls laughed at this, but they were anxious about the cat. And, the next moment, they began to be anxious about the boy.

Curly threw away the oar and plunged right into the eddy. He had little clothing on, and no shoes, so he was not greatly trammeled in swimming to the drifting hencoop. But once there, how would he get the cat ashore?

However, the boy went about his task in quite a manful manner. He climbed up, got one arm hooked over the roof and reached for the wet and frightened cat. The poor creature was so despairing that she could not even use her claws in defense, and Curly pulled her off her perch and set her on his shoulder.

There she clung trembling, and when Curly let himself down into the water again she only uttered a wailing, "Me-e-ou!" and did not try to scratch him. He struck out for the shore, keeping his shoulders well out of the water, and after a fight of a minute or two, brought the cat to land.

Once within reach of the land, the cat leaped ashore and darted into the bushes; while Jimson helped the breathless Curly to land.

"There! yo' reckless creatuah!" exclaimed the man. "I've seen folks drown in a current no worse than that. Stan' up an' make yo' bow t' Miss Nettie, here," and he turned to Nettie, who had got out of the carriage in her interest.

Ruth and Helen stayed back. They did not wish to thrust themselves on the notice of Curly Smith. Nettie told Jimson to see that the saturated boy had a new outfit.

"And don't let him get away till Aunt Rachel returns from Charleston and sees him. She'll want to do something for him, I know," she added.

The boy glanced shyly up at the girls and suddenly caught sight of Ruth and Helen in the background. Like a shot he wheeled and ran into the bushes.

"Oh! catch him!" gasped Ruth. "Don't let him run away, Mr. Jimson."

"He's streakin' it for my shack, I reckon," said the boss. "Mis Jimson'll find him some old duds of mine to put on."

"But maybe he won't come back," said Helen, likewise anxious.

"Ya-as he will. I ain't paid him fo' his wo'k here," chuckled Jimson. "He'll stay a while longah. Don't fret about that."

Nettie got back into the carriage, which went on toward the bridge. As they crossed the long span the girls saw that the current was roaring between the piers and that much rubbish was held upstream by the bridge. The bridge shook under the blows of the logs and other debris which charged against it.

"My! this is dangerous!" cried Helen. "Suppose the bridge should give way?"

"Then we would not get home very easily," laughed Nettie.

It was not a laughing matter, however, when they came later to the shorter span that bridged the back water between the island where the hotel was situated, and the shore of the river. Here the rough current was level with the plank flooring of the bridge, and as the carriage rattled over, the girls could feel that the planks were almost ready to float away.

"We'll be marooned on this island," said Ruth, "if the water rises much higher."

"Who cares?" laughed Nettie, to whom it was all an exciting adventure and nothing more. With all her natural timidity she did not look ahead very far.

Jeffreys and the footman were in a hurry to get back. The instant the girls and their little maid got out at the hotel steps, the coachman turned the horses and hastened away.

A little, smiling woman in a trailing gown came down the steps to welcome the party from Merredith. "I am Mrs. Holloway," she said. "I am glad to see you, girls. Jake reached here about an hour ago and said Mrs. Parsons could not come. It is to be deplored; but it need not subtract any from your pleasure on the occasion.

"Come in--do," she added. "I will show you to your rooms."