"Dear me!" sighed Helen, as Ruth, too, got out, laughing. "You are
incurable, Jennie. Your goddess is your tummy."

But the plump girl was not at all abashed. She ran up the walk on to the
porch and warmly greeted the little old woman who stood in the doorway.

"How-do, Jennie. Oh, my back and oh, my bones! Be careful, child! I'm
kinder tottery to-day, and no mistake. Coming in, Helen Cameron?"

"Not to-night, Aunt Alvirah," replied the girl, starting the car again.
"Good-night, all."

"And here's my pretty!" crooned Aunt Alvirah, putting up her thin arms
to encircle Ruth's neck as the girl came in. "It does seem good to have
you home again. Your Uncle Jabez (who is softer-hearted than you would
suppose) is just as glad to have you home as I am, to be sure."

They had a merry supper in the wide, home-like kitchen, for even the
miller when he came in was cheerful. He had had a good day at the grist
mill. The cash-box was heavy that night, but he did not retire to his
room to count his receipts as early as usual. The chatter of the two
girls kept the old man interested.

"It is a shame that the Indian agent should let a girl like Wonota sign
a contract with that Dakota Joe. Anybody might see, to look at him, that
he was a bad man," Jennie Stone said with vehemence at one point in the
discussion.

"I am not much troubled over that point for the girl," said Ruth. "She
says she has already written to the agent at the Three Rivers Station,