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 own house. At least in some particular he would have his own way, and, without informing his wife, who had denied herself that day to every caller, he returned the unused chest that John Bishop had made.

Ruth's ride to Bordentown was uneventful. The road was terrible, a mere mass of mud and tree-stumps that threatened disaster at every turn of the wheels. She and her cousin talked at a lively pace on every subject but that which most nearly concerned her. No allusion was made to the journey, but when the village was reached, Robert made haste to learn if the Watson boat had reached the mouth of the creek. It had not, and the time was spent in a call upon friends with whom they were both acquainted. It was late in the day when the boat reached the little wharf and the cabin inspected by Robert, who expressed surprise that Matthew had even done as much as appeared. Ruth could be alone, but in such cramped quarters, Robert charged her never to stay in the place long, or she could never straighten out again. The crew were charged to look after Ruth's