He dared not add a word of comfort of
his own while his Chief held first place in soothing her fears.
MacFarlane passed his hand over her forehead--"Don't ask me,
child! Why do you want to bother your dear head over such things,
Puss?" he asked, as he stroked her hair.
"Because I must and will know. Tell me the truth," she demanded,
lifting her head, a note of resolve in her voice. "I can help you
the better if I know it all." Some of the blood of one of her
great-great-grandmothers, who had helped defend a log-house in
Indian times, was asserting itself. She could weep, but she could
fight, too, if necessary.
"Well, then, I'm afraid it is worse than the coffer-dam," he
answered in all seriousness. "It may be a matter of twelve or
fifteen thousand dollars--maybe more, if we have to rebuild the
'fill.' I can't tell yet."
Ruth released her grasp, moved to the sofa and sank down, her chin
resting on her hand. Twelve or fifteen thousand dollars! This
meant ruin to everybody--to her father, to--a new terror now
flashed into her mind--to Jack--yes, Jack! Jack would have to go
away and find other work--and just at the time, too, when he was
getting to be the old Jack once more.
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