The Corner House Girls. Hill Grace Brooks
was only “Aunt” to the Kenway girls by usage. She was merely their mother’s uncle’s half-sister! “And that’s a relationship,” as Aggie said, “that would puzzle a Philadelphia lawyer to figure out.”
As Tess and Dot came down the littered stoop of the tall brick house they lived in, a rosy, red-haired boy, with a snub nose and twinkling blue eyes, suddenly popped up before them. He was dressed in fringed leggings and jacket, and wore a band of feathers about his cap.
“Ugh! Me heap big Injun,” he exclaimed, brandishing a wooden tomahawk before the faces of the startled girls. “Scalp white squaw! Kill papoose!” and he clutched at the Alice-doll.
Dot screamed – as well she might. The thought of seeing her most beloved child in the hands of this horrid apparition —
“Now, you just stop bothering us, Tommy Rooney!” commanded Tess, standing quickly in front of her sister. “You go away, or I’ll tell your mother.”
“Aw – ‘Tell-tale tit! Your tongue shall be split!’” scoffed the dancing Indian. “Give me the papoose. Make heap big Injun of it.”
Dot was actually crying. Tess raised her hand threateningly.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Tommy Rooney,” she said, decisively, “but I shall slap you, if you don’t let us alone.”
“Aw – would you? would you? Got to catch first,” shouted Tommy, making dreadful grimaces. His cheeks were painted in black and red stripes, and these decorations added to Dot’s fright. “You can’t scare me!” he boasted.
But he kept his distance and Tess hurried Dot along the street. There were some girls they knew, for they went to the public school with them, but Tess and Dot merely spoke to them and passed right on.
“We’ll go to the drug store first,” said the older girl. “Then we won’t be bothered with the vegetable bags while we’re getting Aunt Sarah’s peppermints.”
“Say, Tess!” said Dot, gulping down a dry sob.
“Yes?”
“Don’t you wish we could get something ’sides those old peppermint drops?”
“But Ruthie hasn’t any pennies to spare this week. She told us so.”
“Never does have pennies to spare,” declared Dot, with finality. “But I mean I wish Aunt Sarah wanted some other kind of candy besides peppermints.”
“Why, Dot Kenway! she always has peppermints. She always takes some in her pocket to church on Sunday, and eats them while the minister preaches. You know she does.”
“Yes, I know it,” admitted Dot. “And I know she always gives us each one before we go to Sunday School. That’s why I wish we could buy her some other kind of candy. I’m tired of pep’mints. I think they are a most unsat – sat’sfactory candy, Tess.”
“Well! I am amazed at you, Dot Kenway,” declared Tess, with her most grown-up air. “You know we couldn’t any more change, and buy wintergreen, or clove, or lemon-drops, than we could fly. Aunt Sarah’s got to have just what she wants.”
“Has she?” queried the smaller girl, doubtfully. “I wonder why?”
“Because she has,” retorted Tess, with unshaken belief.
The drops were purchased; the vegetables were purchased; the sisters were homeward bound. Walking toward their tenement, they overtook and passed a tall, gray haired gentleman in a drab morning coat and hat. He was not a doctor, and he was not dressed like a minister; therefore he was a curious-looking figure in this part of Bloomingsburg, especially at this hour.
Tess looked up slyly at him as she and Dot passed. He was a cleanly shaven man with thin, tightly shut lips, and many fine lines about the corners of his mouth and about his eyes. He had a high, hooked nose, too – so high, and such a barrier to the rest of his face, that his sharp gray eyes seemed to be looking at the world in general over a high board fence.
Dot was carrying the peppermint drops – and carrying them carefully, while Tess’ hands were occupied with the other purchases. So Master Tommy Rooney thought he saw his chance.
“Candy! candy!” he yelled, darting out at them from an areaway. “Heap big Injun want candy, or take white squaw’s papoose! Ugh!”
Dot screamed. Tess tried to defend her and the white bag of peppermints. But she was handicapped with her own bundles. Tommy was as quick – and as slippery – as an eel.
Suddenly the gentleman in the silk hat strode forward, thrust his gold-headed walking stick between Tommy’s lively legs, and tripped that master of mischief into the gutter.
Tommy scrambled up, gave one glance at the tall gentleman and fled, affrighted. The gentleman looked down at Tess and Dot.
“Oh, thank you, sir!” said the bigger girl. “We’re much obliged!”
“Yes! A knight to the rescue, eh? Do you live on this block, little lady?” he asked, and when he smiled his face was a whole lot pleasanter than it was in repose.
“Yes, sir. Right there at Number 80.”
“Number 80?” repeated the gentleman, with some interest. “Is there a family in your house named Kenway?”
“Oh, yes, sir! We’re the Kenways – two of them,” declared Tess, while Dot was a little inclined to put her finger in her mouth and watch him shyly.
“Ha!” exclaimed the stranger. “Two of Leonard Kenway’s daughters? Is your mother at home?”
“We – we haven’t any mother – not now, sir,” said Tess, more faintly.
“Not living? I had not heard. Then, who is the head of the household?”
“Oh, you want to see Ruth,” cried Tess. “She’s the biggest. It must be Ruth you want to see.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said the gentleman, eyeing the girls curiously. “If she is the chief of the clan, it is she I must see. I have come to inform her of her Uncle Peter Stower’s death.”
CHAPTER II – UNCLE PETER’S WILL
Tess and Dot were greatly excited. As they climbed up the long and semi-dark flights to the little flat at the top of the house, they clung tightly to each other’s hands and stared, round-eyed, at each other on the landings.
Behind them labored the tall, gray gentleman. They could hear him puffing heavily on the last flight.
Dot had breath left to burst open the kitchen door and run to tell Ruth of the visitor.
“Oh! oh! Ruthie!” gasped the little girl. “There’s a man dead out here and Uncle Peter’s come to tell you all about it!”
“Why, Dot Kenway!” cried Tess, as the elder sister turned in amazement at the first wild announcement of the visitor’s coming. “Can’t you get anything straight? It isn’t Uncle Peter who wants to see you, Ruth. Uncle Peter is dead.”
“Uncle Peter Stower!” exclaimed Aggie, in awe.
He was the Kenway girls’ single wealthy relative. He was considered eccentric. He was – or had been – a bachelor and lived in Milton, an upstate town some distance from Bloomingsburg, and had occupied, almost alone, the old Stower homestead on the corner of Main and Willow Streets – locally known as “the Old Corner House.”
“Do take the gentleman to the parlor door,” said Ruth, hastily, hearing the footstep of the visitor at the top of the stairs. “Dot, go unlock that door, dear.”
“Aunt Sarah’s sitting in there, Ruth,” whispered Aggie, hastily.
“Well, but Aunt Sarah won’t bite him,” said Ruth, hurriedly removing her apron and smoothing her hair.
“Just think of Uncle Peter being dead,” repeated Aggie, in a daze.
“And he was Aunt Sarah’s half brother, you know. Of course, neither