dull little thud of a weight falling into her heart. Rebecca Mary
was a Plummer too, but she did not think of that, unless the un-
swerving determination in her stout little heart was the unconscious
recognition of it.

"I wonder"--her gaze wandered out towards the currant-bushes and
came to rest absently on Thomas Jefferson's big, white bulk--"I
wonder if it hurts very much." She meant, to starve. A long vista
of food-less days opened before her, and in their contemplation the
weight in her heart grew very heavy indeed.

"We were GOING to have layer-cake for supper. I'm VERY fond of
layer-cake," Rebecca Mary sighed, "I suppose, though, after a few
weeks"--she shuddered--"I shall be glad to have ANYTHING--just
common things, like crackers and skim-milk. Perhaps I shall want to
eat a--horse. I've heard of folks--You get very unparticular when
you're starving."

It was five o'clock. They WERE going to have supper at half past.
She could hear the tea things clinking in the house. She stole up
to a window. There was Aunt Olivia setting the layer-cake on the
table. It looked plump and rich, and it was sugared on top.

"There's strawberry jam in between it," mused Rebecca Mary,
regretfully. "I wish it was apple jelly. I could bear it better if
it was apple jelly." But it was jam. And there was honey, too, to
eat with Aunt Olivia's little fluffy biscuits. How very fond
Rebecca Mary was of honey!

Aunt Olivia stood in the kitchen doorway and rang the supper bell in