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.