"You'll be all right here," pursued Mr. Cameron, cheerfully. "Aunt
Alviry and Ruth will look after you. Why! I wouldn't want better
nurses if _I_ was sick."

"But I'm not sick," said Fred Hatfield, as the little old woman
hobbled in with a steaming bowl. His eyes were wolfish when he saw
the gruel, however.

"No, you're not so sick but that a good, square meal would be your
best medicine, I'll be bound," cried the gentleman, laughing.

He went out to the mill then and was gone some moments; when he
returned he called Helen and Tom to come with him quickly to the car.

"Remember and be ready as early as nine o'clock, Ruth!" called
Helen, looking back as she climbed into the automobile.

When her friends had bowled away up the frozen road, Ruth came back
into the kitchen. Aunt Alvirah was still in the bedroom with their
strange guest. Of a sudden the girl's eye caught sight of the
newspaper clipping laid on the window sill to dry.

Mr. Cameron had placed the old wallet belonging to Fred Hatfield's
father on the table when he came out of the bedroom. Now Ruth picked
it up, found it dry, and went to the window to replace the clipping
in it. It was the most natural thing in the world for Ruth to glance
at the slip of paper when she picked it up. There is nothing secret
about a newspaper clipping; it was no infringement of good manners to
read the article.