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That is what I am asking you, Minerva, he said seriously. What would you do if you had had twins left to you?
What are they, Mr. Howbridge? Boys or girls?
Both.
Both? Oh! You mean one is a boy and one is a girl.
Ralph and Rowena Birdsall.
That is better than having two of either sex, I should say, Ruth observed with more gravity. They sort of sort of balance each other.
I guess they are some kids, as our friend Neale would say, suddenly laughed Mr. Howbridge. I knew Birdsall very well. I might say we were very close friends, both socially and in business. Poor fellow! The last two years of his life were very sad indeed.
Has he left plenty for the twins? asked Ruth.
More than plenty, said Mr. Howbridge. He was very, very wealthy. Ralph and Rowena will come into
very large fortunes when they are of age. The money is well invested.
Then you need not worry about that, Ruth said sedately.
No? The more money, the more worry for the administrator and guardian, Mr. Howbridge said succinctly. I can assure you that is true. But it is what to do for, and with, the twins themselves that bothers me most just at first.
How old are they?
About twelve. Nice age! All legs and arms and imagination.
Dear me! Do you know them well?
Havent seen them since they were two little red mites in their cradle.
Then you merely imagine they are so very terrible.
I heard enough about them from Frank, Frank Birdsall. That was their fathers name. He used to be very fond of talking about them. Proud as Lucifer, he was, of Ralph and Rowena. And his wife
Oh! Of course, the mother is dead, too.
That was what killed Frank, I verily believe, said Mr. Howbridge gravely. She died two years ago at a camp he owned up near the Canadian border. Red Deer Lodge it is called. Mrs. Birdsall was flung from her horse.
It crushed her husband. He brought the children away from there (they had spent much of their time up in the wilderness, for they loved it) and never went back again.
Thats another piece of work hes left me. Because he did not want ever to see the Lodge again, I have to go up there now, in mid-winter and attend to something thats been hanging fire too long already. It is a nuisance.
A camp in the woods in mid-winter must be an enjoyable place, Ruth said thoughtfully. You can take your guns; and you can snowshoe; can skate; maybe
And, as our good Mrs. Mac would say, eat fried snowballs and icicle soup! finished Mr. Howbridge. Ugh! Its a fine place, Red Deer Lodge, but I shall take only my man and well have to depend on some old guide or trapper to do for us. No, I look forward to no pleasant time at Red Deer Lodge, I assure you.
This conversation was not carried on in sequence. The party in the body of the sleigh frequently interrupted. Sammy managed to dance all over the sleigh, and half a dozen times he was on the point of pitching out into the drifts.
Let him! snapped Agnes at last. Let him be buried in the snow, and we wont stop for him not until we come back.
The poor kid would be an icicle then, objected Neale ONeil.
And hed miss the nice hot chocolate and buns Mr. Howbridge says we are to have at Crowders Inn, put in Tess, the thoughtful.
Dot squeezed her Alice-doll close to her little bosom and made up her mind that that precious possession should not pop out by accident into a drift and be left behind.
I dont suppose I should have brought her, Dot confessed to Tess. I should have given the sailor-boy baby an airing instead.
Oh, yes! Nosmo King Kenway, murmured her sister.
Dot hurried on, ignoring the suggestive name of the sailor-boy baby who had been inadvertently christened after a sign on a barn door.
You know, the smallest Corner House girl said, Alices complexion is so delicate. Of course, Neale had her all made over in the dolls hospital; but I am always afraid that the wind will crack it.
I wouldnt worry so about her, Dot, advised Tess.
You would if Alice were your baby, declared Dot. And you know she is delicate. Shes never been the same since Lillie Treble buried her with the dried apples in our back yard.
Meanwhile Neale ONeil had caught a sentence or two flung back by the wind from the high front seat. He bobbed up between Mr. Howbridge and Ruth.
Whats all this about red deer, and snowshoes, and eating icicle soup? he asked. Sounds awfully interesting. Are you planning to go hunting, Mr. Howbridge?
Ive got to go to a hunting lodge, clear up state, my boy, said the lawyer. And I dread it just as much as you young folks would enjoy it.
It would be fine, I think, murmured Ruth.
Oh, bully! shouted Agnes, suddenly standing up in the straw and clinging to Neale for support. To a regular, sure-enough winter camp? Then Carrie and Lucy Poole, and Trix Severn cant crow over us any more! They went, last year, to Letterbeg Camp, up beyond Hoosac.
But, goodness, Agnes, wait till we are asked, do! admonished Ruth. I never saw or heard of such precipitate young ones.
Young one yourself! grumbled Agnes.