Nothing but capital letters would fully express the delight she put into the name of the college she and Ruth were to attend.
"Huh!" grunted Tom.
Aunt Alvirah said: "It wouldn't matter, deary, if you was both goin' off to be Queens of Sheby; it's the goin' away that hurts."
Ruth had her arms about the little old woman and her own voice was caressing if not lachrymose.
"Don't take it so to heart, Aunt Alvirah. We shall not forget you. You shall send us a box of goodies once in a while as you always do; and I will write to you and to Uncle Jabez. Keep up your heart, dear."
"Easy said, my pretty," sighed the old woman. "Not so easy follered out. An' Jabe Potter is dreadful tryin' when you ain't here."
"Poor Uncle Jabez," murmured Ruth.
"Poor Aunt Alvirah, you'd better say!" exclaimed Helen, sharply, for she had not the patience with the miserly miller that his niece possessed.
At the moment the back door was pushed open. Helen jumped. She feared that Uncle Jabez had overheard her criticism.
But it was only Ben, the hired man, who thrust his face bashfully around the edge of the door. The young people hailed him gaily, and Ruth offered him a piece of cake.