Ruth Fielding and the Gypsies | Page 7

up to as exciting an expression as the above.
"You kin talk!" snarled Uncle Jabez. "If you'd been here to help me, I wouldn't ha' lost our boat and the flour."
The miller fairly ached when he thought of his losses, and he had to lay the blame on somebody.
"Now you help me git four more sacks over to Tim Lakeby's----"
Ruth would not hear of his going back before he changed his clothing and had something put upon the cut in his head. After a little arguing, it was agreed that Ben and the clerk should ferry the flour across to the store, and then the clerk would bring Ben back.
"Goodness sakes alive!" shrieked Aunt Alvirah, when she saw them come onto the porch, still dripping. "What you been doing to my pretty, Jabez Potter?"
"Huh!" sniffed the miller. "Mebbe it's what she's been doing to me?" and he wreathed his thin lips into a wry grin.
Aunt Alvirah and Mercy must hear it all. The lame girl was delighted. She pointed her finger at the old man, who had now gotten into his Sunday suit and had a bandage on his head.
"Now, tell me, Dusty Miller, what do you think about girls being of some use? Isn't Ruth as good as any boy?"
"She sartainly kep' me from drownin' as good as any boy goin'," admitted the old man. "But that was only chancey, as ye might say. When it comes to bein' of main use in the world----Wal, it ain't gals thet makes the wheels go 'round!'
"And don't you really think, Uncle, that girls are any use in the world?" asked Ruth, quietly. She had come out upon the dimly lit porch (this was after their supper) in season to hear the miller's final observation.
"Ha!" ejaculated Jabez. Perhaps he had not intended Ruth to hear just that. "They're like flowers, I reckon--mighty purty an' ornamental; but they ain't no manner o' re'l use!"
Mercy fairly snorted, but she was too wise to say anything farther. Ruth, however, continued:
"That seems very unfair, Uncle. Many girls are 'worth their salt,' as you call it, to their families. Why can't I be of use to you--in time, of course?"
"Ha! everyone to his job," said Uncle Jabez, brusquely. "You kin be of gre't help to your Aunt Alviry, no doubt. But ye can't take a sack of flour on your shoulders an' throw it inter a waggin--like Ben there. Or like that Roberto thet lugged me ashore to-night. An' I'm some weight, I be."
"And is that all the kind of help you think you'll ever need, Uncle?" demanded Ruth, with rising emotion.
"I ain't expectin' ter be helpless an' want nussin' by no gal--not yet awhile," said Uncle Jabez, with a chuckle. "Gals is a gre't expense--a gre't expense."
"Now, Jabez! ye don't mean thet air," exclaimed the little old woman, coming from the kitchen. She lowered herself into the little rocker nearby, with her usual moan of, "Oh, my back! an' oh, my bones! Ye don't mean ter hurt my pretty's feelin's, I know."
"She axed me!" exclaimed the miller, angrily. "I vum! ain't I spendin' a fortun' on her schoolin' at that Briarwood Hall?"
"And didn't she save ye a tidy fortun' when she straightened out that Tintacker Mine trouble for ye, Jabez Potter?" demanded the old woman, vigorously. "An' the good Lord knows she's been a comfort an' help to ye, right an' left, in season an' out, ever since she fust stepped foot inter this Red Mill----What's she done for ye this very day, Jabez, as ye said yourself?"
Aunt Alvirah was one of the very few people who dared to talk plainly to the miller, when he was in one of his tempers. Now he growled out some rough reply, and strode into the house.
"You've driven him away, Auntie!" cried Ruth, under her breath.
"He'd oughter be driv' away," said the old woman, "when he's in thet mind."
"But what he says is true. I am a great expense to him. I--I wish I could earn my own way through school."
"Don't ye worry, my pretty. Jabez Potter's bark is wuss than his bite."
"But the bark hurts, just the same."
"He ought to be whipped!" hissed Mercy, in her most unmerciful tone. "I'd like to whip him, till all the dust flew out of his Dusty Miller clothes--so I would!"
"Sh!" commanded Ruth, recovering her self-command again and fighting back the tears. "Just as Aunt Alvirah observes, he doesn't mean half of what he says."
"It hurts just the same--you said it yourself," declared the lame girl, with a snap.
"I want to be independent, anyway," said Ruth, with some excitement. "I want an education so I can do something. I'd like to cultivate my voice--the teacher says it has possibilities. Mr. Cameron is going to let Helen go as far as she likes with