When Aunt Olivia in stern displeasure had demanded explanations,
she had run on recklessly, calling back over her shoulder: "Don't
stop me! I'm a Tony Trumbull!"

"My land!" breathed Aunt Olivia, taking back the suspicion to her
breast. "After all my forbidding she's gone down there. She's BEEN
going down there dear knows how long. She's waited till I took my
naps an' then went. A PLUMMER!"

There was really nowhere else she could have gone. She had never
wanted to go anywhere else, except to the minister's, and Rebecca
Mary was punctilious and would not think of going THERE again till
the minister's wife had returned her visit.

But Aunt Olivia waited. As usual, she went to her room next day at
nap time and closed the door behind her. But when a little figure
slipped down the road towards the forbidden place a moment later,
she was watching behind her blinds. She was groaning as if in pain.

The little figure began to run staidly. Aunt Olivia groaned again.
The child was in a hurry to get there--she couldn't wait to walk!
There was guilt in every motion of the little figure.

"And she runs like a Plummer," groaned Aunt Olivia.

The next day, and the next, Aunt Olivia watched behind her blinds.
The fourth day she put on her afternoon dress and followed the hurrying
little figure. Not at once--Aunt Olivia did not hurry. There was a
sad reluctance in every movement. It seemed a terrible thing to be
following Rebecca Mary--Rebecca Mary Plummer to a forbidden place.