<h3>CHAPTER XX</h3>
<h4>UNCLE JABEZ IS MYSTERIOUS</h4>
<p>Miss Cramp was in the habit of calling upon some trustee to speak at the
close of the exercises—usually Mr. Semple—and then there was a little social
time before the assemblage broke up. But the frown on the chairman's face
did not suggest that that gentleman had anything very jovial to say at the
moment, and the teacher closed the exercises herself in a few words that
were not at all personal to the winner of the spelling-match.
</p>
<p>When the stir of people moving about aroused Ruth, her only thought was to
get away from the schoolhouse. Perhaps not more than two dozen people had
distinctly heard what Julia so cruelly said to her; but it seemed to the
girl from the Red Mill as though everybody in that throng knew that she was
a charity child—that, as Julia said, the very frock she had on belonged
to somebody else.
</p>
<p>And to Helen! She had never for a moment suspected that Helen had been the
donor of the three frocks. Of course everybody in the neighborhood had known
all the time that she was wearing Helen's cast-off clothing. Everybody but
Ruth herself would have recognized the dresses; she had been in the neighborhood
so short a time that, of course, she was not very well acquainted with Helen's
wardrobe.
</p>
<p>At the moment she could not feel thankful to her chum. She could only remember
Julia's cutting words, and feel the sting to her pride that she should have
shown herself before all beholders the recipient of her friend's alms.
</p>
<p>Nobody spoke to her as she glided through the moving crowd and reached the
door. Miss Cramp was delayed in getting to her; Helen and Tom did not see
her go, for they were across the room and farthest from the door. And so
she reached the exit and slipped out.
</p>
<p>The men and boys from outside thronged the tiny anteroom and the steps. As
she pushed through them one man said:
</p>
<p>"Why, here's the smart leetle gal that took Semple's gal down a peg—eh?
She'd oughter have a prize for that, that's what she ought!"
</p>
<p>But Ruth could not reply to this, although she knew it was meant kindly.
She went out into the darkness. There were many horses hitched about the
schoolhouse, but she reached the clear road in safety and ran toward the
Red Mill.
</p>
<p>The girl came to the mill and went quietly into the kitchen. She had got
the best of her tears now, but Aunt Alviry's bright eyes discovered at once
that she was unhappy. Uncle Jabez did not even raise his eyes when she came
in.
</p>
<p>"What is the matter with my pretty leetle creetur?" whispered the old woman,
creeping close to Ruth.
</p>
<p>"Nothing is the matter now," returned Ruth, in the same low tone.
</p>
<p>"Didn't you do well?" asked the old woman, wistfully.
</p>
<p>"I won the spelling match," replied Ruth. "I stood up longer than anybody
else."
</p>
<p>"Is that so!" exclaimed Aunt Alvirah, with pride. "I told ye so, Ruthie.
And ye beat that Semple gal?"
</p>
<p>"She was the last one to fail before me," Ruth returned.
</p>
<p>"Well, well! D'ye hear that, Jabez? Our Ruth won the spellin'-match."
</p>
<p>The miller did not raise his head from his accounts; only grunted and nodded.
</p>
<p>"But something went wrong wi' ye, deary?" persisted Aunt Alvirah, watching
Ruth's face closely.
</p>
<p>"Oh, Auntie! why didn't you tell me that Helen gave me the frocks?"
</p>
<p>"Deary, deary, me!" ejaculated Aunt Alvirah. "How did you know?"
</p>
<p>"Julia Semple told me—she told me before everybody!" gasped Ruth, fighting
hard to keep back the tears. "She called me a pauper! She called it out before
them all, and said that I wore Helen's cast-off clothes!"
</p>
<p>"The mean thing!" said Aunt Alvirah, with more sharpness then she usually
expressed. "Isn't that jest like the Semples? They're all that way. Got mad
with you because you beat her at spelling; eh?"
</p>
<p>"Yes. But she has known it right along, of course."
</p>
<p>"Deary me!" said Aunt Alvirah. "Nobody supposed them frocks would be
reckernized—least of all Helen. She meant it kindly, Ruthie. It <i>was</i>
kindly meant."
</p>
<p>"I wish I'd worn my old black dress to rags!" cried Ruth, who was too hurt
to be sensible or just. "I suppose Helen meant it kindly. And you did what
you thought was right, Auntie. But all the girls have turned up their noses
at me—"
</p>
<p>"Let 'em stay turned up—what do you care?" suddenly growled Uncle Jabez.
</p>
<p>For the moment Ruth had forgotten his presence and she and Aunt Alvirah had
been talking more loudly. They both fell suddenly silent and stared at him.
</p>
<p>"Are ye too proud to wear dresses that's give to ye?" demanded Uncle Jabez.
"Ye ain't too proud to take food and shelter from <i>me.</i> And I'm a poorer
man than Macy Cameron an' less able to give."
</p>
<p>The tone and the words were both cruel—or seemed to be to Ruth's mind. But
she said, bravely:
</p>
<p>"People know that you're my uncle—"
</p>
<p>"I was yer mother's uncle; that's all. The relationship ain't much," declared
Uncle Jabez.
</p>
<p>"Jabez," said the little old woman, solemnly, "you've been a good friend
to me—ye've borne with me in sickness and in weakness. Ye took me from the
a'mshouse when I didn't have a penny to my name and nobody else to turn to,
it seemed. I've tried ter do for ye faithfully. But I ain't done my duty
by you no more than this child here has since she's come here to the Red
Mill. You know that well yourself, too. Don't blame the pretty leetle creetur
for havin' the nateral vanity that all young things hez. Remember, Jabez,
that it was through <i>you</i> that she has had to accept clothing from
outsiders."
</p>
<p>"Through <i>me?"</i> growled the miller, raising his countenance and scowling
at the brave old woman—for it took courage for Aunt Alvirah to speak to
him in this way.
</p>
<p>"Helen Cam'ron wouldn't have been called on to give Ruthie her frocks which
she only wore last year, and outgrew, if you hadn't lost Ruthie's trunk.
Ye know that, Jabez," urged Aunt Alvirah.
</p>
<p>"I s'pose I'm never to hear the last of that!" stormed the miller.
</p>
<p>"You are still to hear the <i>first</i> word from Ruthie about it, Jabez,"
admonished his housekeeper.
</p>
<p>"Well!"
</p>
<p>"Well," repeated Aunt Alvirah, still speaking quietly but earnestly. "You
know it ain't my way to interfere in your affairs, Jabez. But right is right.
It was you lost Ruthie's trunk. I never knew ye ter be dishonest—"
</p>
<p>"What's that?" gasped Mr. Potter, the red mantling his gray cheek dully.
</p>
<p>"I never knew ye ter do a dishonest thing afore, Jabez," pursued Aunt Alvirah,
with her voice shaking now. "But it's dishonest for ye to never even perpose
ter make good what ye lost. If you'd lost a sack of grain for a neighbor
ye'd made it up to him; wouldn't ye?"
</p>
<p>"What's thet gotter do with a lot of foolish fal-lals an' rigamagigs belonging
to a gal that I've taken in—"
</p>
<p>"To help us. And she does help us," declared the old woman, quickly. "She
more'n airns her keep, Jabez. Ye know she does."
</p>
<p>"Well!" grunted the miller again, but he actually looked somewhat abashed
and dropped his gaze to the ledger.
</p>
<p>"Well, then, Jabez Potter," said the old housekeeper, "you think it over—think
it over, Jabez. And as sure as my name's Alviry Boggs, if you <i>do</i> think
it over, something will come of it!"
</p>
<p>This seemed like a rather mysterious saying, and there seemed to be nothing
for the miller to observe in answer to it. Ruth had ere this dried her eyes
and it was soon bedtime. It is a long time from Friday night to Monday
morning—especially to young folk. The hurt that Ruth had felt over Julia
Semple's unkind words had lost its keenness in Ruth's mind ere school began
again. So Ruth took up her school duties quite as usual, wearing one of the
pretty frocks in which, however, she could no longer take such pride and
delight.
</p>
<p>There was really nothing for her to do but wear them. She realized that.
She felt, however, that whenever any girl looked at her she remembered that
it was Helen Cameron's cast-off dress she wore; so she was glad that the
big girls were no more friendly than before and that they seldom looked at
her.
</p>
<p>Besides, all the school was very busy now. In a fortnight would came graduation.
About all Ruth heard at recess and between sessions, even among the smaller
girls, was the discussion of what they were to wear on the last day of the
term. It was a great day at this school, and Miss Cramp was to graduate from
her care seven pupils—four girls and three boys—all of whom would go to
the Cheslow High the coming year. Ruth would not be ready to graduate; but
before fall, if she was faithful to the tasks Miss Cramp set her, that kind
teacher assured the girl from the Red Mill that she would be able to enter
the higher school with this graduating class.
</p>
<p>All the older girls and many of the others were to wear white. Miss Cramp
approved of this, for even a simple white dress would look pretty and nice
and was within the means of most of the girl pupils. Nobody asked Ruth what
she would wear; and she was glad of that, for she knew that she had no choice
but to don the shabby black cloth frock she had worn at first, or one of
the "charity" frocks.
</p>
<p>In this first week after the spelling-bee she did not see Helen or Tom, and
only received a brief note from Helen which she tried to answer with her
usual cheerfulness. Helen and Tom were going to the city for a few days,
therefore Ruth was not likely to see either until the end of the term.
</p>
<p>At the Red Mill matters went much the same as usual. If Uncle Jabez had taken
to heart anything that Aunt Alvirah had said, he did not show it. He was
as moody as ever and spoke no more to Ruth than before. But once or twice
the girl found him looking at her with a puzzled frown which she did not
understand.
</p>
<p>On Saturday, however, at dinner, Mr. Potter said: "Alviry, if the gal has
got her work done she can go to town with me this afternoon."
</p>
<p>Ruth shrank a little and looked appealingly at the old woman. But Aunt Alvirah
would not or did not, understand Ruth's pleading, and said, briskly:
</p>
<p>"She shall be ready when you've shaved and Ben's harnessed the mules, Jabez."
</p>
<p>"Oh, Auntie!" whispered Ruth, when the miller had gone out, "I don't want
to go with him! I don't really!"
</p>
<p>"Now, don't say that, child," said Aunt Alvirah. "Don't do nothing to make
him feel that ye air afraid of him. Go 'long. Ye can call on that leetle
lame gal ye was tellin' us about while Jabez does his errands. Now hurry,
deary."
</p>
<p>Ruth felt quite confused by this. It seemed that there must be some private
understanding between Aunt Alvirah and the miller. She went slowly and changed
her frock. The old lady, crying up the stairway after her, advised her to
look her smartest—so as to please Jabez, forsooth! Indeed, she finally hobbled
up stairs, with many ejaculations of "Oh, my back and oh, my bones!" for
the purpose of satisfying herself that Ruth was as nicely dressed as she
could be.
</p>
<p>And Uncle Jabez—or no other man—need have been ashamed of the appearance
of Ruth Fielding when the mules came around hitched to the heavy farm-wagon
which Mr. Potter usually drove. It was piled high with bags of flour and
meal, which he proposed to exchange at the Cheslow stores for such supplies
as he might need. The load seemed heavier than usual this day.
</p>
<p>It was not a bad wagon to ride in, though dusty; for there was a spring seat
and over it a new hood to shield the riders from the sun. Ruth followed Uncle
Jabez out of the house and climbed up over the wheel and into the seat when
he nodded for her to do so. He followed her, took up the reins, and the boy,
Ben, stood away from the mules' heads.
</p>
<p>Aunt Alvirah stood on the porch and waved her apron at Ruth every time the
girl turned around, until the wagon had crossed the bridge and was way up
the long hill on the Cheslow road. It was a delightful June afternoon and
had Ruth been traversing this pleasant highway in almost any other way, she
would have enjoyed the ride mightily.</p>
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