could hardly believe it hers. She might call Mr. Robinson to the
wagon, and when he came close to the wheels she might say,
suddenly: "Please take the flag out of the back of the wagon, Mr.
Robinson. We have brought it here for you to keep overnight."
Then Mr. Simpson might be so surprised that he would give up his
prize rather than be suspected of stealing.
But as they neared the Robinsons' house there was not a sign of
life to be seen; so the last plan, ingenious though it was, was
perforce abandoned.
The road now lay between thick pine woods with no dwelling in
sight. It was growing dusk and Rebecca was driving along the
lonely way with a person who was generally called Slippery
Simpson.
Not a thought of fear crossed her mind, save the fear of bungling
in her diplomacy, and so losing the flag. She knew Mr. Simpson
well, and a pleasanter man was seldom to be met. She recalled an
afternoon when he came home and surprised the whole school
playing the Revolutionary War in his helter-skelter dooryard, and
the way in which he had joined the British forces and
impersonated General Burgoyne had greatly endeared him to her.
The only difficulty was to find proper words for her delicate
mission, for, of course, if Mr. Simpson's anger were aroused, he
would politely push her out of the wagon and drive away with the
flag. Perhaps if she led the conversation in the right direction
an opportunity would present itself. Clearing her throat
nervously, she began:--
"Is it likely to be fair to-morrow?"

"Guess so; clear as a bell. What's on foot; a picnic?"