THE END OF THE TERM
But the companionship of the grim and glum proprietor of the Red Mill
was not conducive--in Ruth's case, at least--to any feeling of
pleasure. Uncle Jabez seemed about to speak to her a dozen times
before they were out of sight of the mill; but every time Ruth turned
toward him, half expecting to be addressed, his lips were grimly set
and he was looking straight ahead over the mules' ears.
It is doubtful if Uncle Jabez saw anything of the beauty of the day or
the variety of the landscape. Looking as he did he could not have
observed by his eyes of flesh much but the brown ribbon of road before
them, for miles. And it is doubtful if, spiritually, he appreciated
much of the beauty of the June day. The mules toiled up the long hill,
straining in their collars; but they began to trot upon the other side
of the ridge and the five miles to Cheslow were covered in a
comparatively short time.
Finally, when Uncle Jabez drew up before one of the largest stores,
she felt that she must break the awful silence. And stumblingly she
preferred her request:
"If you are going to be some time trading, Uncle Jabez, can't I go
down to call on Mercy Curtis? I can come here again and meet you at
any time you say."
"Who's that? Sam Curtis' gal--the cripple?" asked Uncle Jabez,
shortly.
"Yes, sir. She likes to have me come and see her."
"Can't you find nothing more interestin' to do when ye come to town
than go to see a sick gal?" was the miller's surprising inquiry.
"I--I promised to call on her if I could whenever I was in town. She
really likes to have me come," explained Ruth.
"Well, you can go," grunted Uncle Jabez. "I'll stop there for ye when
I'm done tradin'."
He had already climbed down from the high seat. Ruth came lightly down
after him and he actually turned and jumped her over the wheel so that
her dress should not be soiled. Then, suddenly, he said:
"Wait. I want you to go into this store with me first."
He turned away abruptly, so that Ruth could not see what his
countenance expressed. He carefully tied his mules to a hitching post
and then stumped into the store without again glancing in her
direction. Ruth followed him timidly.
It was a big store with many departments, and on one side were dry
goods and clothing, where the clerks were women, or young girls, while
the groceries, provisions, hardware and agricultural tools were
displayed upon the other side of the long room. Uncle Jabez strode
straight to the first woman he saw who was disengaged.
"This girl wants a dress to wear to the school graduating," he said,
in his harsh voice. "It must be white. Let her pick out the goods, all
the fal-lals that go with it, and a pattern to make it by. Ye
understand?"
"Yes, sir," said the woman, smiling.
"You know me?" asked Uncle Jabez. "Yes? Then send the bill to the
other side of the store and I'll pay it when I sell my meal and
flour." Then to the astounded Ruth he said: "I'll come to Sam Curtis'
for you when I'm done. See you don't keep me waiting."
He wheeled and strode away before Ruth could find her voice. She was
so amazed that she actually felt faint She could not understand it. A
white dress! And she to make her choice alone, without regard to
material, or price! She could have been no more stunned had Uncle
Jabez suddenly run mad and been caught by the authorities and sent to
an asylum.
But the shop woman awoke her, having asked her twice what kind of
white goods she wanted to see. The repeated query brought Ruth to her
senses. She put the astonishing fact that Uncle Jabez had done this,
behind her, and remembered at once the importance of the task before
her.
She had not listened to the talk of the other girls at school for
nothing. She knew just what was the most popular fabric that season
for simple white dresses that could be "done up" when soiled. She had
even found the style of a dress she liked in a fashion magazine that
one of the girls had had at school. Ruth was self-posessed at once.
She went about her shopping as carefully and with as little haste as
though she had been buying for herself for years; whereas this was the
very first frock that she had ever been allowed to have the choice of.
There were costlier goods, and some of the girls of the graduating
class were to have them; but Ruth chose something so durable and at so
low a price that she hoped Uncle Jabez would not be sorry for his
generosity. She saw the goods, and lace, and buttons, and all the
rest, made up into a neat package and sent across to the other counter
with the bill, and then went out of the store and up Market Street
toward the railroad.
She saw Uncle Jabez nowhere, or she would have run to him to thank him
for the present. And she had been in Mercy Curtis' front window for
quite an hour before the mules turned the corner into the street and
the wagon rattled up to the house and stopped.
"And is that ugly old man your uncle?" demanded Mercy, who had been
less crusty and exacting herself on this occasion.
"That is Uncle Jabez;" admitted Ruth, hastening to put on her hat.
"He is an ugly one; isn't he? I'd like to know him, I would," declared
the odd child. "He ain't one that's always smirking and smiling, I bet
you!"
"He isn't given much to smiling, I must admit," laughed Ruth, stooping
to kiss the crippled girl.
"There! Go along with you," said Mercy, sharply. "You tell that ugly,
dusty man--Dusty Miller, that's what he is--that I'm coming out to
the Red Mill, whether he wants me to or not."
And when Ruth got out upon the street Mercy had her window open and
cried through the opening, shaking her little fist the while:
"Remember! You tell Dusty Miller what I told you! I'm coming out
there."
"What's the matter with that young one?" growled Uncle Jabez, as Ruth
climbed aboard and the mules started at a trot before she was really
seated beside him.
Ruth told him, smiling, that Mercy had taken a fancy to his looks, and
a fancy, too, to the Red Mill from her description of it. "She wants
very much to come out there this summer--if she can be moved that
far."
Then Ruth tried to thank the miller for the frock--which bundle she
saw carefully placed among the other packages in the body of the
wagon--but Uncle Jabez listened very grumpily to her broken words.
"I don't know how to thank you, sir; for of all the things I wanted
most, I believe this is the very first thing," Ruth said, stumblingly.
"I really don't know how to thank you."
"Don't try, then," he growled, but without looking at her. "I reckon
you can thank Alviry Boggs as much as anybody. She says I owed it to
you."
"Oh, Uncle--"
"There, there! I don't wanter hear no more about it," declared the
miller. But after they had rattled on for a while in silence, he said,
pursuing the former topic: "There ain't no reason, I s'pose, why that
gal can't come out an' see you bimeby, if you want her to."
"Oh, thank you, Uncle Jabez!" cried Ruth, feeling as though something
very strange indeed must have happened to the miller to make him so
agreeable. And she tried to be chatty and pleasant with him for the
rest of the way home. But Uncle Jabez was short on conversation--he
seemed to have hoarded that up, too, and was unable to get at his
stores of small-talk. Most of his observations were mere grunts and
nods, and that evening he was just as glum and silent as ever over his
money and accounts.
Miss 'Cretia Lock arrived early on Monday morning and when Ruth came
home from school in the afternoon the wonderful dress was cut out.
They made it in two days and Aunt Alvirah washed and starched and
ironed it herself and it was ready for appearance on the last Friday
afternoon of the term, when the district school held its graduating
exercises.