"Why, Mr. Potter-- Uncle Jabez."

So astonished did the old lady appear to be that she started from her
chair and her ejaculation was changed to a moan of pain as she
murmured her old formula: "Oh, my back and oh, my bones!"

"Jabez ain't said a word to me about it. Why should he take anybody to
help me? Is he struck with the fear o' his latter end?"

She said this in no cross-grained way, but because she was so amazed.
She likewise stared harder and harder at her visitor.

"You ain't come from the poor farm, child?" she asked, finally.

The flush upon Ruth's cheek and the expression which came into her
face told Aunt Alviry that she was wrong there.

"Not that you look like poorhouse breed-- not at all. You're too
pretty dressed and you're too well fed. I know what they be there, for
I have been there myself. Yes, ma'am! Jabez Potter came after me to
the poor farm. I was sickly, too. There's them that said he went to
Doctor Davison first to find out if I was goin' to git well before he
come arter me; but Jabez ain't never treated me noways but kind. Starn
he is-- by natur and by practice; an' clost he is in money matters.
But he's been good to an old woman without a home who warn't neither
kith nor kin to him."

Ruth listened to the first good word she had heard of Uncle Jabez, and
the speech comforted her somewhat. Perhaps there was something better