Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill - Or, Jasper Parloe's Secret by pseud. Alice B. Emerson
page 74 of 170 (43%)
page 74 of 170 (43%)
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But Aunt Alvirah caught her hand as she passed swiftly. The old woman
carried the plump little hand to her lips in mute sympathy, and then Ruth broke away even from her and ran upstairs to her room. There she cast herself upon the bed and, with her sobs smothered in the pillows, gave way to the grief that had long been swelling her heart to the bursting point. CHAPTER XIII BUTTER AND BUTTERCUPS Such little keepsakes as remained of her father and mother-- their photographs, a thin old bracelet, her mother's wedding ring, her father's battered silver watch had fortunately been in Ruth's bag. Those keepsakes had been too precious to risk in the trunk and in the baggage car. And how glad the girl was now that she had thus treasured these things. But the loss of the trunk, with all her clothing -- common though that clothing had been-- was a disaster that Ruth could not easily get over. She cried herself to sleep that night and in the morning came down with a woebegone face indeed. Uncle Jabez did not notice her, and even Aunt Alvirah did not comment upon her swollen eyes and tear-streaked countenance. But the old woman, if anything, was kinder than ever to her. It was Saturday, and butter day. Uncle Jabez owned one cow, and since Ruth had come to the mill it was her work twice a week to churn the butter. The churn was a stone crock with a wooden dasher and Ruth had just emptied in the thick cream when Helen Cameron ran in. |
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