“Hush, Tom,” Ruth said. Then: “Now, Ben, just think. Who has been around here to-day? Any stranger, I mean.”
“Why—I dunno,” said the mill hand, puckering his brows.
“Think!” she commanded again.
“Why—why——old Jep Parloe drove up for a grinding.”
“He’s not a stranger.”
“Oh, yes he is, Ruthie. Me nor Mr. Potter ain’t seen him before for nigh three months. Your uncle up and said to him, ‘Why, you’re a stranger, Mr. Parloe.’”
“I mean,” said Ruth, with patience, “anybody whom you have never seen before—or anybody whom you might suspect would steal.”
“Well,” drawled Ben stubbornly, “your uncle, Ruthie, says old Jep ain’t any too honest.”
“I know all about that,” Ruth said. “But Parloe did not leave his team and go down to the summer-house, did he?”
“Oh, no!”