l else was dark about the place.

"Don't look very lively, Ruth," said Tom. "I don't believe they
expect you."

But even as he spoke the door opened, and a broad beam of yellow
lamplight shot out across the porch and down the path. A little, bent
figure was silhouetted in the glow.

"There's Aunt Alviry!" cried Ruth, in delight. "I know _she's_ all
right."

"All excepting her back and her bones," whispered Helen. "Now, Ruthie!
don't you let anything happen to veto our trip to Heavy's seaside
cottage."

"Oh! don't suggest such a thing!" cried her brother.

But Ruth ran up the path after bidding them good-night, with her heart
fast beating. Dr. Davison's warning had prepared her for almost any
untoward happening.

But Aunt Alvirah only looked delighted to see the girl as Ruth ran into
her arms. Aunt Alvirah was a friendless old woman whose latter years
would have been spent at the Cheslow Almshouse had not Jabez Potter taken
her to keep house for him more than ten years before. Ill-natured people
said that the miller had done this to save paying a housekeeper; but in
Aunt Alvirah's opinion it was an instance of Mr. Potter's kindness
of heart.

"You pretty creetur!" cried Aunt Alvirah, hugging Ruth close to her.
"And how you've growed! What a smart girl you are getting to be! Deary,
deary me! how I have longed for you to git back, Ruthie. Come in! Come
in! Oh, my back and oh, my bones!" she complained, under her breath,
as she hobbled into the house.

"How's the rheumatics, Aunty?" asked Ruth.

"Just the same, deary. Up one day, and down the next. Allus will be
so, I reckon. I'd be too proud to live if I didn't have my aches and
pains--Oh, my back and oh, my bones!" as she lowered herself into her
rocker.

"Where's Uncle Jabez?" cried Ruth.

"Sh!" admonished Aunt Alvirah. "Don't holler, child. You'll disturb
him."

"Not _sick?_" whispered Ruth, in amazement.

"No--o. Not sick o' body, I reckon, child," returned Aunt Alvirah.

"What _is_ it, Aunt Alviry? What's the matter with him?" pursued the
girl, anxiously.

"He's sick o' soul, I reckon," whispered the old woman. "Sumpin's
gone wrong with him. You know how Jabez is. It's money matters."

"Oh, has he been robbed again?" cried Ruth.

"Sh! not jest like that. Not like what Jasper Parloe did to him. But
it's jest as bad for Jabez, I reckon. Anyway, he takes it jest as
hard as he did when his cash-box was lost that time. But you know how
close-mouth