"Better put your money in the bank, sir," said Tom, coolly.
"And have some sleek and oily scoundrel steal it, eh?" snarled Uncle Jabez.
"Well, the water stole it, I reckon," Tom said. "I'm sorry for you if there was much money in the box. But I know nothing about it. Jasper Parloe might have saved the box had he known about it; he was over there by the office when the water tore away the wall."
"Jasper Parloe!" ejaculated Uncle Jabez, starting. "Was he here?"
"He wasn't here long," chuckled Tom. "He thought the mill was going and he lit out in a hurry."
Uncle Jabez made another despairing gesture and walked away. Ruth followed him and her hands closed upon the toil-hardened fist clenched at his side.
"I'm sorry, Uncle," she whispered.
He suddenly stared down at her.
"There! I believe you be, child. But your being sorry can't help it none. The money's gone—hard it come and it's hard to part with in this way."
"Was it a large sum, Uncle?"