“I’ll see Doc.  Davison when he drives by to-morrer,” promised Uncle Jabez, with his usual bruskness.  “If he says it’s all right, she can come.  I’ll bring her chair and her luggage out in the wagon on Saturday.  The Doc. will arrange about her being brought out comfortably.”

All this was so amazing that Ruth could not speak.  Except when he had been angry, or at the time his cash-box was lost when the flood came down the river, she had never heard Uncle Jabez make so long a speech.  Aunt Alvirah was no person with whom she could discuss this great change in the miller; and when Doctor Davison was hailed by Mr. Potter the next day and stopped at the mill for quite half an hour to confer with him, Ruth was still more amazed.

Every other day Ruth was to go to town, if it was fair.  Uncle Jabez made no comment upon her absence; nor did he put himself out in the least to arrange for any means of transportation for his niece.  He seldom went to Cheslow himself, save on Saturdays.

Ruth’s next trip to Miss Cramp’s was on a very hot day indeed.  There was a glare of hot sun on the long hill and just enough fitful breeze to sift the road-dust all over her as she walked.  But—­ and how fortunate that was!—­ before she had gone far the purring of a motor-car engine aroused her attention and Tom Cameron ran along beside her in his father’s auto and stopped.

“Ain’t I lucky?” he cried.  “Get in here, Ruthie, and I’ll take you to town in a jiffy.”

“I’m the lucky one, I think,” said Ruth, smiling in return as she slipped into the seat beside him.  “And I almost believe, Tommy Cameron, that you knew I was starting for town and came along just to give me a lift.”

He grinned at her.  “Don’t you think you’re mighty important?” he teased.  “Suppose I haven’t anything else to think about but you girls?”

Just the same, Ruth stuck to this belief.  But she had to confess that she was glad of the ride to town.  It would have been very, very hot in the sun and dust.

“And it’s real summer, now,” she said.  “It will be hot in town.  I’m so glad Mercy is going to get out of it.”

“What do you mean?” demanded Tom.  “Is she going to be taken away?”

Ruth told him of the remarkable interest Uncle Jabez had taken in the crippled girl.  Tom could scarcely have been more surprised.

“Why, the old curmudgeon has got a decent streak in him, after all; hasn’t he?” he exclaimed, rather thoughtlessly.

“Don’t speak that way of him, Tom,” urged Ruth.  “I know you’ve got reason for disliking him—­”

“What do you mean?” demanded Tom, turning on her sharply.

“Oh, I—­ Well, Tom, you know I believe I could easily find the man who almost drove the team over you the night you were hurt?  And you’ve known it all the time, and kept still about it!”

“That mean, contemptible Jasper Parloe!  He’s told!” gasped Tom.