The boy dragged the trunk up the fine gravel-walk, but before he
reached the steps leading up to the piazza, for the house stood on
a terrace, the front door opened and a fair, frizzled head of a
very large and handsome woman appeared. She held up her black silk
skirt, disclosing voluminous ruffles of starched embroidery, and
waited for Rebecca. She smiled placidly, her pink, double-chinned
face widened and dimpled, but her blue eyes were wary and
calculating. She extended her hand as Rebecca climbed the steps.

"This is Miss Flint, I suppose," said she.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Rebecca, noticing with bewilderment a curious
expression compounded of fear and defiance on the other's face.

"Your letter only arrived this morning," said Mrs. Dent, in a
steady voice. Her great face was a uniform pink, and her china-
blue eyes were at once aggressive and veiled with secrecy.

"Yes, I hardly thought you'd get my letter," replied Rebecca. "I
felt as if I could not wait to hear from you before I came. I
supposed you would be so situated that you could have me a little
while without putting you out too much, from what John used to
write me about his circumstances, and when I had that money so
unexpected I felt as if I must come for Agnes. I suppose you will
be willing to give her up. You know she's my own blood, and of
course she's no relation to you, though you must have got attached
to her. I know from her picture what a sweet girl she must be, and
John always said she looked like her own mother, and Grace was a
beautiful woman, if she was my sister."