pleasantly. Folks had such queer ways of saying things. How could
you say good afternoon to anybody if she WASN'T here?

"Didn't you hear Mrs. Dixey, Rebecca Mary? I guess you've forgot your
manners," came in Aunt Olivia's crisp tones.

"Oh yes'm, I have. I mean I DID. Yes'm, thank you, I'm out here,"
quavered Rebecca Mary. She was not afraid of the Caller and she had
never been afraid of Aunt Olivia, but the horror that was settling
round her heart made her clear little voice unsteady. Her eyes were
still following Thomas Jefferson on his mincing travels about the yard.
The sunshine was on his splendid white coat, but Rebecca Mary felt no
pride in him.

"Ain't that the han'somest rooster! You ought to show him at the fair,
I declare! See how his feathers glisten in the sun!"

"Thomas Jefferson belongs to Rebecca Mary," Aunt Olivia said, briefly.
"She raised him."

"My! Well, he's han'some enough. Ain't it amusing how a nice-feeling
rooster like that will go stepping round as if he felt about too toppy
to live! He'd ought to wear diamonds."

"Oh, oh, dear, please don't!" breathed Rebecca Mary, softly, but neither
of the women heard her.

"Well, well, I must be going. I've made a regular visit. But I tell
John when I get away from home, it feels so good I STAY! 'I don't get
away any too often,' I says, 'and I guess I've earnt the right.' Well,