The moonlight lay in a broad band under the front window. Into this
radiance moved the figure of the vagabond boy, shrouded in a blanket.
He came to the table and he felt around until he found the wallet. He
had doubtless marked it lying there by the window before Aunt Alvirah
had put the lamp out and left him.

He seized the wallet and opened it wide. He shook it over the table.
Then Ruth heard him groan:

"It's gone! it's gone!"

He stood there, shaking, and dropped the leather case unnoticed. For
half a minute he stood there, uncertain and--Ruth thought--sobbing
softly. Then the boy approached the garments hung upon the chairs
about the stove, wherein the coal fire was banked for the night.

He stopped before he touched his underclothing. All these garments
were well dried by this time; but Aunt Alvirah had wished them left
there to be warm when he put them on in the morning. Ruth knew
exactly what Fred Hatfield had in his mind. The vagabond boy was
determined to dress quietly and secretly leave the miller's house.

But when Master Fred touched the first garment Ruth rattled the door
latch ever so lightly. Fred stopped and turned fearfully in that
direction. His lips parted. She could see that he was panting with
fear.

Ruth rattled the latch again. He ran back to his couch and plunged
into the comforters with a gasp. Ruth pulled the door quietly to and
stood there, shivering in the dark, wondering what to do. She knew