Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill | Page 2

perhaps she was
glad to have him do it.
"Tell me all about it," he suggested, with such an air of confidence and
interest that Ruth warmed more and more toward him.
But it was a little hard to begin. When he told her, however, that he was
going to Cheslow, too-- indeed, that that was his home-- it was easier
by far.
"I am Doctor Davison, my dear," he said. "If you are going to live in
Cheslow you will hear all about Doctor Davison, and you would better
know him at first-hand, to avoid mistakes," and his eyes twinkled more
than ever, though his stern mouth never relaxed.
"I expect that my new home is some little way outside of Cheslow,"
Ruth said, timidly. "They call it the Red Mill."
The humorous light faded out of the dark, bright eyes of the gentleman.
Yet even then his countenance did not impress her as being unkindly.
"Jabez Potter's mill," he said, thoughtfully.
"Yes, sir. That is my uncle's name."
"Your uncle?"
"My great uncle, to be exact," said Ruth. "He was mother's uncle."
"Then you," he said, speaking even more gently than before, "are little
Mary Potter's daughter?"

"Mother was Mary Potter before she married papa," said Ruth, more
easily now. "She died four years ago."
He nodded, looking away from her out of the window at the
fast-darkening landscape which hurried by them.
"And poor papa died last winter. I had no claim upon the kind friends
who helped me when he died," pursued Ruth, bravely. "They wrote to
Uncle Jabez and he-- he said I could come and live with him and Aunt
Alvirah Boggs."
In a flash the twinkle came back into his eyes, and he nodded again.
"Ah, yes! Aunt Alviry," he said, giving the name its old-fashioned,
homely pronunciation. "I had forgotten Aunt Alviry," and he seemed
quite pleased to remember her.
"She keeps house for Uncle Jabez, I understand," Ruth continued. "But
she isn't my aunt."
"She is everybody's Aunt Alviry, I think," said Doctor Davison,
encouragingly.
For some reason this made Ruth feel better. He spoke as though she
would love Aunt Alviry, and Ruth had left so many kind friends behind
her in Darrowtown that she was glad to be assured that somebody in
the new home where she was going would be kind, too.
Miss True Pettis had not shown her Uncle Jabez's letter and she had
feared that perhaps her mother's uncle {whom she had never seen nor
known much about) might not have written as kindly for his niece to
come to the Red Mill as Miss True could have wished. But Miss True
was poor; most of the Darrowtown friends had been poor people. Ruth
had felt that she could not remain a burden on them.
Somehow she did not have to explain all this to Doctor Davison. He
seemed to understand it when he nodded and his eyes twinkled so
glowingly.

"Cheslow is a pleasant town. You will like it," he said, cheerfully. "The
Red Mill is five miles out on the Lake Osago Road. It is a pretty
country. It will be dark when you ride over it to-night; but you will like
it when you see it by daylight."
He took it for granted that Uncle Jabez would come to the station to
meet her with a carriage, and that comforted Ruth not a little.
"You will pass my house on that road," continued Doctor Davison.
"But when you come to town you must not pass it."
"Sir?" she asked him, surprised.
"Not without stopping to see me," he explained, his eyes twinkling
more than ever. And then he left her and went back to his seat.
But Ruth found, when he had gone, that the choke came back into her
throat again and the sting of unshed tears to her eyes. But she would
not let those same tears fall!
She stared out of the plate-glass window and saw that it was now quite
dark. The whistle of the fast-flying locomotive shrieked its long-drawn
warning, and a group of signal lights flashed past. Then she heard the
loud ringing of a gong at a grade crossing. They must be nearing
Cheslow now.
And then she saw that they were on a curve quite a sharp curve, for she
saw the lights of the locomotive and the mail car far ahead upon the
gleaming rails. They began to slow down, too, and the wheels wailed
under the pressure of the brakes.
She could see the signal lights along the tracks ahead and then-- with a
start, for she knew what it meant-- a sharp red flame appeared out of
the darkness beyond the rushing engine pilot.
Danger! That is what that red light meant. The brakes