She was a very neat-looking old lady, with a kerchief crossed on her
breast in the style of the old-fashioned Quakeresses. She was not much
taller than Ruth herself, for when she stood upright-- or as upright
as she could stand-- her eyes were just about on a level with Ruth's
eyes looking in over the half door.

But the face of the old lady seemed, to the lonely, tear-filled girl,
almost the gentlest, sweetest face she had ever seen, as it slowly
smiled upon her. Aunt Alviry's welcome was like the daybreak.

"Bless us and save us!" ejaculated she, rising upright by degrees with
her hand upon the back she had been apostrophizing. "If here isn't a
pretty little creeter come to see her Aunt Alviry. How-de-do, girl?"

Ruth had set down her bag. Now she opened the door and stepped in. The
smile of the old lady broke down every bit of fortitude the girl had
left and she walked directly into Aunt Alviry's arms and burst into
tears.

"There! there! Deary, deary me!" murmured the little old lady, patting
her shoulder. "Somebody has been treating you badly, I know. And
you've come right to your Aunt Alviry for comfort. And you've come to
the right place, my pretty girl, for I've got tons of comfort for ye."

She found a chair and lowered herself into it, not without the formula
which Ruth had heard before, of "Oh, my back and oh, my bones!" Ruth
dropped on her knees before her, hid her face in the old lady's lap,
and had her cry out. Meanwhile Aunt Alvirah seemed to have taken in
several things about her guest that were significant. She touched the
stuff of which Ruth's gown was made, and nodded; even the black