from one of the open doors of the mill to the road, where a little,
one horse wagon stood. He bore a bag of meal or flour on his shoulder
which he pitched into the wagon. The man on the seat was speaking as
the automobile came to a stop immediately behind the wagon.

"Jefers pelters! Ef there's one thing yeou know how to do, it's to
take toll, Jabe. Let the flour be poor, or good, there's little enough
of it comes back to the man that raises the wheat."

"You don't have to bring your wheat here, Jasper Parloe," said the
miller, in a strong, harsh voice. "There is no law compels ye."

"Yah!" snarled old Parloe. "We all know ye, Jabe Potter. We know what
ye be." Potter turned away. He had not noticed the two girls in the
automobile. But now Jasper Parloe saw them. "Ho!" he cried, "here's
somebody else that will l'arn ter know ye, too. Didn't know you was
ter hev comp'ny; did ye, Jabe? Here's yer niece, Jabe, come ter live
on ye an' be an expense to ye," and so, chuckling and screwing up his
mean, sly face, Parloe drove on, leaving the miller standing with arms
akimbo, and staring at Ruth, who was slowly alighting from the
automobile with her bag.

Helen squeezed her hand tightly as she got out "Don't forget that we
are your friends, Ruthie," she whispered. "I'm coming by again this
afternoon when I drive over to the station for father. If-- if
anything happens you be out here-- now remember!"

What could possibly happen to her, Ruth could not imagine. She was not
really afraid of Uncle Jabez. She walked directly to him, as he stood
there, staring gloomily, in front of the Red Mill. He was not only