UNCLE JABEZ IS MYSTERIOUS
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The men and boys from outside thronged the tiny anteroom and the
steps. As she pushed through them one man said:
"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!"
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.
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.
"What is the matter with my pretty leetle creetur?" whispered the old
woman, creeping close to Ruth.
"Nothing is the matter now," returned Ruth, in the same low tone.
"Didn't you do well?" asked the old woman, wistfully.
"I won the spelling match," replied Ruth. "I stood up longer than
anybody else."
"Is that so!" exclaimed Aunt Alvirah, with pride. "I told ye so,
Ruthie. And ye beat that Semple gal?"
"She was the last one to fail before me," Ruth returned.
"Well, well! D'ye hear that, Jabez? Our Ruth won the spellin'-match."
The miller did not raise his head from his accounts; only grunted and
nodded.
"But something went wrong wi' ye, deary?" persisted Aunt Alvirah,
watching Ruth's face closely.
"Oh, Auntie! why didn't you tell me that Helen gave me the frocks?"
"Deary, deary, me!" ejaculated Aunt Alvirah. "How did you know?"
"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!"
"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?"
"Yes. But she has known it right along, of course."
"Deary me!" said Aunt Alvirah. "Nobody supposed them frocks would be
reckernized--least of all Helen. She meant it kindly, Ruthie. It was
kindly meant."
"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--"
"Let 'em stay turned up--what do you care?" suddenly growled Uncle
Jabez.
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.
"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 me. And I'm a
poorer man than Macy Cameron an' less able to give."
The tone and the words were both cruel--or seemed to be to Ruth's
mind. But she said, bravely:
"People know that you're my uncle--"
"I was yer mother's uncle; that's all. The relationship ain't much,"
declared Uncle Jabez.
"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 you that she has had to accept clothing from outsiders."
"Through me?" 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.
"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.
"I s'pose I'm never to hear the last of that!" stormed the miller.
"You are still to hear the first word from Ruthie about it, Jabez,"
admonished his housekeeper.
"Well!"
"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--"
"What's that?" gasped Mr. Potter, the red mantling his gray cheek
dully.
"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?"
"What's thet gotter do with a lot of foolish fal-lals an' rigamagigs
belonging to a gal that I've taken in--"
"To help us. And she does help us," declared the old woman, quickly.
"She more'n airns her keep, Jabez. Ye know she does."
"Well!" grunted the miller again, but he actually looked somewhat
abashed and dropped his gaze to the ledger.
"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 do think it over, something will come of it!"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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:
"She shall be ready when you've shaved and Ben's harnessed the mules,
Jabez."
"Oh, Auntie!" whispered Ruth, when the miller had gone out, "I don't
want to go with him! I don't really!"
"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."
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.
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.
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.
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.