over the river," she said.

"I guess I'll go out here," replied Rebecca. She had a purpose: to
watch for the absent girl.

Presently Rebecca came hustling into the house through the sitting-
room, into the kitchen where Mrs. Dent was cooking.

"That rose-bush!" she gasped.

Mrs. Dent turned and faced her.

"What of it?"

"It's a-blowing."

"What of it?"

"There isn't a mite of wind this morning."

Mrs. Dent turned with an inimitable toss of her fair head. "If you
think I can spend my time puzzling over such nonsense as--" she
began, but Rebecca interrupted her with a cry and a rush to the
door.

"There she is now!" she cried. She flung the door wide open, and
curiously enough a breeze came in and her own gray hair tossed, and
a paper blew off the table to the floor with a loud rustle, but
there was nobody in sight.