"Why not?"
"'Tain't no job for a gal, Niece Ruth," grumbled the miller.
"Any job is all right for a girl—if she can do it," said Ruth, happily. "And I can row, Uncle—you know I can."
"Ha! rowing one o' them paper-shell skiffs of Cameron's one thing; the ash oars to my punt ain't for baby's han's," growled the miller.
"Do let me try, Uncle Jabez," said Ruth again, when the lame girl broke in with:
"You are an awfully obstinate old Dusty Miller! Why don't you own up that Ruthie's more good to you than a dozen boys would be?"
"She ain't!" snarled the old man.
At that moment there appeared upon the farmhouse porch a little, bent old woman who hailed them in a shrill, sweet voice:
"What's the matter, gals? What's the matter, Jabez? Ain't nothin' broke down, hez there?"
"No, Aunt Alvirah," laughed Ruth. "I just want Uncle Jabez to let me help him——"