"Rebecca!"
The tone in which the word was voiced gave it all the effect of
having been shouted from the housetops.
A dark ruffled head and two frightened eyes appeared above the
dimity spread.
"What are you layin' on your good bed in the daytime for, messin'
up the feathers, and dirtyin' the comforter with your dusty
boots?"
Rebecca rose guiltily. There seemed no excuse to make. Her
offense was beyond explanation or apology.
"I'm sorry, Aunt Mirandy-something came over me; I don't know
what."
"Well, if it comes over you very soon again we'll have to find
out what 't is. Spread your bed up smooth this minute, for 'Bijah
Flagg's bringin' your trunk upstairs, and I wouldn't let him see
such a cluttered-up room for anything; he'd tell it all over
town."
When Mr. Cobb had put up his horses that night he carried a
kitchen chair to the side of his wife, who was sitting on the
back porch.

"I brought a little Randall girl down on the stage from Maplewood
to-day, mother. She's related to the Sawyer girls an' is goin' to
live with 'em," he said, as he sat down and began to whittle.
"She's Aurelia's child, the sister that ran away with Susan
Randall's son just before we come here to live."

"How old a child?"

"Bout ten, or somewhere along there, an' small for her age; but