"She ought to have grown up real pretty, if she takes after my
sister. She was a real pretty woman," Rebecca said wistfully.

"Yes, I guess she did grow up pretty," replied the woman in a
trembling voice.

"What kind of a woman is the second wife?"

The woman glanced at her husband's warning face. She continued to
gaze at him while she replied in a choking voice to Rebecca:

"I--guess she's a nice woman," she replied. "I--don't know, I--
guess so. I--don't see much of her."

"I felt kind of hurt that John married again so quick," said
Rebecca; "but I suppose he wanted his house kept, and Agnes wanted
care. I wasn't so situated that I could take her when her mother
died. I had my own mother to care for, and I was school-teaching.
Now mother has gone, and my uncle died six months ago and left me
quite a little property, and I've given up my school, and I've come
for Agnes. I guess she'll be glad to go with me, though I suppose
her stepmother is a good woman, and has always done for her."

The man's warning shake at his wife was fairly portentous.

"I guess so," said she.

"John always wrote that she was a beautiful woman," said Rebecca.

Then the ferry-boat grated on the shore.