"May I go to the store, too?"
"Yes."
Ruth settled back contentedly. Only five minutes more to fight the Indians. She would try to get to the end of the seam before the clock in the kitchen struck. So her fingers flew along the stretch of brown cloth and there were but a few more threads to pull when one, two, three, strokes sounded solemnly and slowly from the tall clock in the corner of the kitchen.
Ruth looked up inquiringly and Aunt Hester nodded her head.
"Fold up your work and put it in the big chest," she said, "and then you may go and find Billy. When he has finished his work, tell him to come to me."
Ruth did as she was bid. She found Billy industriously stacking wood.
"Whew," he cried as he saw the little girl, "there's a lot of it, isn't there? See how much I have already piled up."
"You're 'most through, aren't you?" said Ruth. "How hard you must have been working, Billy."
Billy smiled appreciatively. When Billy smiled, you forgot his red hair and snub nose, for his bright blue eyes were squeezed up so merrily and his whole face showed such a sunny expression that, you felt like smiling in return.
Ruth, on the contrary, was a sombre looking little mite with burning dark eyes, a small thin face and serious mouth. Her greatest beauty was her chestnut hair which rippled in shining waves to her waist when it was unplaited, but Miss Hester insisted upon smooth braids and was very particular that every hair should be in place, so the shimmering masses were generally confined in two plaits and tied tightly by a black ribbon.