Alvirah could testify to that fact. So could a certain little lame
friend of Ruth Fielding, Mercy Curtis, who was attending Briarwood
Hall as the result of the combined charity of Uncle Jabez and Dr.
Davison, of Cheslow.

But it is said that "charity begins at home"; when charity begins in
a man's very bed, that seems a little too near! At least, so Mr.
Potter thought.

"What's this I hear about a vagabond boy in my bed, Aunt Alviry?" he
demanded, when he came in.

"The poor child!" said the old woman. "Oh, my back, and oh, my
bones! Come in and see him, Jabez," she urged, hobbling toward the
passage.

"No. Who is he? What is he here for? That Cameron talks so fast I
never can get the rights of what he's saying till afterward. Says the
boy belongs up there where he wants to take Ruth to-morrow?"

"He has run away from his home at Scarboro, Uncle," said Ruth.

"Young villain! A widder's son, too!" said her uncle.

"He says his father is dead," said Ruth, hesitating.

"I venture to say!" exclaimed Jabez Potter. "And he's in my bed; is
he?"

He came back to this as being a reason for objection.