"Not that you look like poorhouse breed—not at all. You're too pretty dressed and you're too well fed. I know what they be there, for I have been there myself. Yes, ma'am! Jabez Potter came after me to the poor farm. I was sickly, too. There's them that said he went to Doctor Davison first to find out if I was goin' to git well before he come arter me; but Jabez ain't never treated me noways but kind. Starn he is—by natur and by practice; an' clost he is in money matters. But he's been good to an old woman without a home who warn't neither kith nor kin to him."
Ruth listened to the first good word she had heard of Uncle Jabez, and the speech comforted her somewhat. Perhaps there was something better within the rough husk of Uncle Jabez, after all.
"I did not live near here," Ruth said, quietly. "But my papa and mama did. I came from Darrowtown."
Aunt Alviry opened wide her bright brown eyes, and still stared in wonder.
"My mother's name was Mary Potter, and she was Mr. Potter's niece. So he is my great-uncle."
"Bless us and save us!" ejaculated Aunt Alviry, again, shaking her head. "I never heard a word of it—never! I 'member Mary Potter, and a sweet, pretty child she was. But Jabez never had no fondness for any of his kin. You—you are all alone in the world, child?"
"All alone save for Uncle Jabez."
She had come near to the old woman again. As she dropped quietly on her knees Aunt Alviry gathered her head close to her bosom; but Ruth did not weep any more. She only said:
"I know I shall love you very, very much, dear Aunt Alvirah. And I hope I shall help your back and your bones a great deal, too!"