Ebook Ruth Fielding Down East

Not a breath of air stirred on the near side of the river. The huge old elms shading the Red Mill and the farmhouse connected with it belong ing to Mr. Jabez Potter, the miller, were like painted trees, so still were they. The brooding heat of midday, however, had presaged the com ing storm, and it had been prepared for at mill and farmhouse. The tempest was due soon.