"Oh yes—Miss. Very pretty," agreed Maggie.
"That is where I am going to college," Ruth explained. "I enter as a freshman next week."
"Is that so—Miss?" hesitated Maggie. Her heretofore colorless face flushed warmly. "I've heard of that—that place," she added.
"Indeed, have you?"
Maggie was looking at the photograph of Lake Remona, with a part of Bliss Island at one side. She continued to stare at the picture while Ruth put before her the suggestion of work at the Red Mill.
"Oh, of course, Miss Fielding, I'd be glad of the work. And you're very liberal. But you don't know anything about me."
"No. And I shouldn't know much more about you if you brought a dozen recommendations," laughed Ruth.
"I suppose not—Miss." It seemed hard for the girl to get out that "Miss," and Ruth, who was keenly observant, wondered if she really had been accustomed to using it.
They talked it over and finally reached an agreement. Aunt Alvirah was sweetly grateful to Ruth, knowing full well that there must have been a "battle royal" between the miller and his niece before the former had agreed to the new arrangement.
Ruth was quite sure that Maggie was a nice girl, even if she was queer. At least, she gave deference to the quaint little old housekeeper, and seemed to like Aunt Alvirah very much. And who would not love the woman, who was everybody's aunt but nobody's relative?