He worked like a Trojan to gather buttercups, and after they had eaten the luncheon old Babette had put up for them (and it was the very nicest and daintiest luncheon that Ruth Fielding had ever tasted) he told the girls to remain seated on the flat stone he had found for them and weave the foundation for the pillow while he picked bushels upon bushels of buttercups. "You'll need a two-horse load, anyway to have enough for a pillow of the size Nell has planned," he said, grinning. "And perhaps she'll finish it if you help her, Ruth. She's always trying to do some big thing and 'falling down' on it." "That's not so, Master Sauce-box!" cried his sister. Tom went off laughing, and the two girls set to work on the great mass of buttercups they had already picked. They grew so large, and were so dewey and golden, that a more brilliant bed of color one could scarce imagine than the pillow, as it began to grow under the dexterous hands of Helen and Ruth. And, being alone together now, they began to grow confidential. "And how does the Ogre treat you?" asked Helen. "I thought, when I came this morning, that you had been feeling badly." "I am not very happy," admitted Ruth. "It's that horrid Ogre!" cried Helen. "It isn't right to call Uncle Jabez names," said Ruth, quietly. "He is greatly to be pitied, I do believe. And just now, particularly so." "You mean because of the loss of that cash-box?" "Yes." "Do you suppose there was much in it?" "He told me that it contained every cent he had saved in all these years." "My!" cried Helen. "Then he must have lost a fortune! He has been a miser for forty years, so they say." "I do not know about that," Ruth pursued. "He is harsh and--and he seems to be very selfish. He--he says I can go to school, though." "Well, I should hope so!" cried Helen. "But I don't know that I can go," Ruth continued, shaking her head. "For pity's sake I why not?" asked her friend. Then, out came the story of the lost trunk. Nor could Ruth keep back the tears as she told her friend about Uncle Jabez's cruelty. "Oh, oh, oh!" cried Helen, almost weeping herself. "The mean, mean thing! No, I won't call him Ogre again; he isn't as good as an Ogre. I--I don't know what to call him!" "Calling him names won't bring back my trunk, Helen," sobbed Ruth. "That's so. I--I'd make him pay for it! I'd make him get me dresses for those that were lost." "Uncle is giving me a home; I suppose he will give me to wear all that he thinks I need. But I shall have to wear this dress to school, and it will soon not be fit to wear anywhere else." "It's just too mean for anything, Ruth! I just wish--" What Miss Cameron wished she did not proceed to explain. She stopped and bit her lip, looking at her friend all the time and nodding. Ruth was busily wiping her eyes and did not notice the very wise expression on Helen's face.