as she said it. She had always listened to Duty before.

"You know you ought to--"

"Yes, I know, but I can't! It seems a shameful thing to do. I'm sure
I've tried often enough--you know I've tried--"

"I know--that was good practice. Now stop trying and read it!"

Aunt Olivia flamed up. "I tell you I won't! It's a shameful thing.
If I found Rebecca Mary reading one of my diaries, I should send her
to bed--"

"Read hers and go to bed yourself. It's your duty to read it.
When you bring up a child--"

"I never will again!"

Aunt Olivia read it, with the relentless grip of Duty holding her
to the task. But flame spots crept up through the sallow of her thin
cheeks and made what atonement they could.

It did not take long, though some of the pages she read twice.
The weatherless week, when Rebecca Mary had put off her "asking"
from day to day, Aunt Olivia went back to the third time. When she
closed the little book it was not a Plummer face she lifted it to
and laid it against for the space of a breath--a Plummer face would
not have been wet.

Then she Whirled upon Duty. "Well, I've done it--I hope you're