"Thank'e, Miss Ruth," Ben said. "I can't come in. Jest came to the shed for the oars."
"Is uncle going across the river in the punt?" asked Ruth.
"No, Miss Ruth. There's a boat adrift on the river."
"What kind of boat?" asked Tom, jumping up. "What d'you mean?"
"She's gone adrift, Mr. Tom," said Ben. "Looks like she come from one o' them camps upstream."
"Oh! let's go and see!" cried Helen, likewise eager for something new.
Neither of the Cameron twins ever remained in one position or were interested solely in one thing for long.
The young folk trooped out after Ben through the long, covered passage to the rear door of the Red Mill. The water-wheel was turning and the jar of the stones set every beam and plank in the structure to trembling. The air was a haze of fine white particles. Uncle Jabez came forward, as dusty and crusty an old miller as one might ever expect to see.
He was a tall, crabbed looking man, the dust of the mill seemingly so ground into the lines of his face that it was grey all over and one wondered if it could ever be washed clean again. He only nodded to his niece and her friends, seizing the oars Ben had brought with the observation:
"Go 'tend to Gil Martin, Ben. He's waitin' for his flour. Where ye been all this time? That boat'll drift by."