"I don't need another hand at the mill—and I couldn't make use of a boy like you at all," said Mr. Potter, hastily. "You wait till Mr. Cameron comes here this morning."
Ruth saw that there was an understanding between her uncle and Mr. Cameron regarding this boy. But Fred said, still hesitating:
"If—if I can't do anything to repay you, I'd rather go on. I was 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."
