“I won’t go to Sunrise Farm if you want me here, Uncle Jabez,” declared Ruth, still clinging to him, and with the same smiling light in her eyes.
“Ha! ye don’t mean that,” he grunted.
He knew she did. His wrinkled, hard old face finally began to change. His eyes tried to escape her gaze.
“I just love you, Uncle,” she breathed, softly. “Won’t—won’t you let me?”
“There, there, child!” He tried for a moment to break her firm hold; then he stooped shamefacedly and touched her fresh lips with his own.
Ruth nestled against his big, strong body, and clung a moment longer. His rough hand smoothed her sleek head almost timidly.
“There, there!” he grumbled. “You’re gittin’ to be a big gal, I swow! And what good’s so much schoolin’ goin’ ter do ye? Other gals like you air helpin’ in their mothers’ kitchens—or goin’ to work in the mills at Cheslow. Seems like a wicked waste of time and money.”
But he did not say it so harshly as had been his wont in the old times. Ruth smiled up at him again.
“Trust me, Uncle,” she said. “The time’ll come when I’ll prove to you the worth of it. Give me the education I crave, and I’ll support myself and pay you all back—with interest! You see if I don’t.”
“Well, well! It’s new-fashioned, I s’pose,” growled the old man, starting for the mill. “Gals, as well as boys, is lots more expense now than they used ter be to raise. The ‘three R’s’ was enough for us when I was young.