"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."