“How you will ever get your baggage—­and in what shape—­we can only guess,” Tom said to the Western girl, grinning over his shoulder as the car flew on toward the Red Mill.  “Guess you’ll have to bid a fond farewell to all the glad rags you brought with you, and put on some of Ruth’s, or Helen’s.”

“I’d look nice; wouldn’t I?” she scoffed, tossing her head.  “If I don’t get my trunks I’ll sue the railroad company.”

The car arrived before the gate of the cottage.  There was the basket of beans just where Ruth and Helen had left them.  And Aunt Alvirah came hobbling to the door again, murmuring, “Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!” and quite amazed when she saw Ben come running to help Tom Cameron into the house with the youth from the railroad wreck.

“Though, landy’s sake!  I don’t know what your Uncle Jabez will say when he comes back from town and finds this boy in the best bed,” grumbled Aunt Alvirah, after a bit, when she and Ruth were left alone with Jerry Sheming, and the others had gone on in the car, hurrying so as not to be late for luncheon at Outlook.

CHAPTER III

UNCLE JABEZ HAS TWO OPINIONS

Dr. Davison came, found that Jerry’s leg was not broken, left liniment, some quieting medicine to use if the patient could not sleep, and went away.  Still Uncle Jabez had not returned from town.

Dinner had been a farce.  Ben, the hired man, was fed as usual; but Ruth and Aunt Alvirah did not feel like eating; and, considering his fever, it was just as well, the doctor said, if the patient did not eat until later.

Jerry Sheming was a fellow of infinite pluck.  The pain he had endured during his rough ride in the automobile must have been terrific.  Yet he was only ashamed, now, that he had fainted.

“First time I ever heard of a Sheming fainting—­or yet a Tilton, Miss,” he told Ruth.

“I don’t believe you belong near here?” suggested Ruth, who sat beside him, for he seemed restless.  “I don’t remember hearing either of those names around the Red Mill.”

“No.  I—­I lived away west of here,” replied Jerry, slowly.  “Oh, a long ways.”

“Not as far as Montana?  That is where Jane Ann comes from.”

“The girl I helped through the car window?” he asked, quickly.

“Yes.  Miss Hicks.”

“I did not mean really West,” he said.  “But it’s quite some miles.  I had been walking two days—­and I’m some walker,” he added, with a smile.

“Looking for work, you said?” questioned Ruth, diffident about showing her interest in the young fellow, yet deeply curious.

“Yes.  I’ve got to support myself some way.”

“Haven’t you any folks at all, Mr. Jerry?”

“I ain’t a ‘mister,’” said the youth.  “I’m not so much older than you and your friends.”

“You seem a lot older,” laughed Ruth, tossing back her hair.