he Cheslow railroad station and in
it was an adequate supply of such frocks and necessities as a girl of
her age would need in the school to which she was bound. Her ticket
was bought, too, and in her purse was a crisp ten-dollar note--both
purse and money being a special present from Uncle Jabez.

Ruth had learned that the miller was by no means as grim as he looked,
and she likewise knew that now he was kindly disposed toward her and
really was doing a great deal for her. She was determined to never be
ungrateful to Uncle Jabez for satisfying the greatest longing she had
ever had--to go to Briarwood Hall, a boarding school.

Suddenly a young man put his head in at the kitchen door, grinned, and
said:

"They're a-comin', Miss Ruthie. I see 'em up the road."

Ruth jumped up at once and ran for her coat and hat.

"There, child!" cried Aunt Alvirah, "ye haven't eaten enough breakfast
to keep a fly alive. Lucky I've got a good basket of lunch put up for
ye. It'll be a long journey--by train, boat, and stage coach. You'll
be hungry enough before ye git there---- Oh, my back and oh, my
bones!" she added, as she hobbled to the dresser for the luncheon box.

Ruth flashed back into the room and cried to the youth on the porch:

"Is the car really in sight, Ben?"

"It's almost here, Miss."

Indeed, they could hear the purring of a motor-car coming up the river
road. Ruth flung her arms about Uncle Jabez's neck, although he did
not rise from the table where he was methodically putting his breakfast
away as though nothing unusual was happening.

"You've been a dear, good uncle to me," she whispered, "and I love you
for it. I'll be careful of the money, and I'll get all the learning I
can for the money you pay out--now just you see if I don't!"

"I ain't sure that it'll do either of us much good," grumbled Uncle
Jabez, and he did not even follow her to the door as she ran out.

But Aunt Alvirah hobbled after her, and pressed her close before she
would let the girl run down the walk.

"Blessin's on ye, ye pretty creetur," she crooned over Ruth. "I'll
think of ye ev'ry moment ye air away. This is your home, Ruthie; ye
ain't got nary 'nother--don't fergit that. And yer old A'nt Alviry'll
be waitin' for ye here, an' jest longin' for the time when ye come
home."

Ruth kissed her again and again. Two excited young voices called to
her from the automobile.

"Come on! Come on, Ruth. Do come away!"

She ki