tall and stoop-shouldered, and very dusty; but his dusty eyebrows
almost met over his light blue eyes. He was lantern-jawed, and it did
seem as though his dry, shaven lips had never in all his life wrinkled
into a smile. His throat was wrinkled and scraggy and his head was
plainly very bald on top, for the miller's cap he wore did not
entirely cover the bald spot.

"I am Ruth Fielding, from Darrowtown," she said, in a voice that she
controlled well. "I have come to-- to live with you, Uncle Jabez."

"Where was you last night?" demanded the miller, without so much as
returning her greeting. "Was you with them Camerons?"

"I stayed all night with the station master," she said, in
explanation.

"What time did you get to the station?"

Ruth told him. Never once did his voice change or his grim look relax.

"I mistook the time of the train," he said, without expressing any
sorrow.

"I-- I hope you will be glad to have me come," the said. "Miss True--"

"You mean that old maid that wrote to me?" he asked, harshly.

"Miss True Pettis. She said she thought you would like to have me here
as we were so near related."