making for Cheslow. I'll get a job--"

"You wait here as you're told, boy," snapped Uncle Jabez, and the
runaway shrank into his chair again and said nothing more.

Breakfast at the Red Mill was always early; it had been finished
before seven o'clock on this clear winter morning. It was a fine day
when the sun appeared, and Ruth's mind--at least, a _part_ of
it!--delighted in the thought of the journey to be taken into the
great woods to the north and east of Osago Lake. She had several
little things to do in preparation; therefore she could not be blamed
if she lost sight of Fred Hatfield occasionally.

Suddenly, however, she found that he had left the kitchen. She cried
up the stairs to Aunt Alvirah:

"Have you seen him, Auntie? Where is he?"

"Where's who?" returned the old woman.

"That boy. He's not here."

"For the land's sake!" returned Aunt Alvirah. "I dunno. Didn't your
uncle tell him to wait for Mr. Cameron here?"

"But he's gone!" exclaimed Ruth; and picking up her cap she pulled
it on, and likewise her sweater, and went out of the house with a
bang. He was not on the road to Cheslow. She could see that, straight
before the mill, for a mile. She ran down to the gate and looked
along the river road, up stream. No figure appeared there. Nor in the