Rebecca looked at her; her mouth gaped. She hurried out of the
room. When she came back her eyes seemed to protrude. (She had in
the meantime hastened upstairs, and come down with tottering steps,
clinging to the banisters.)

"Now I want to know what all this means?" she demanded.

"What what means?"

"The rose is on the bush, and it's gone from the bed in my room!
Is this house haunted, or what?"

"I don't know anything about a house being haunted. I don't
believe in such things. Be you crazy?" Mrs. Dent spoke with
gathering force. The colour flashed back to her cheeks.

"No," said Rebecca shortly. "I ain't crazy yet, but I shall be if
this keeps on much longer. I'm going to find out where that girl
is before night."

Mrs. Dent eyed her.

"What be you going to do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln."

A faint triumphant smile overspread Mrs. Dent's large face.

"You can't," said she; "there ain't any train."