The address fluttered and came to a standstill here. Rebecca Mary
was suddenly minded that Olivicia was in the dark; must be
enlightened before she could smile understandingly.

"Why, you poor dear!--why, you don't know what it is that's
coming and that's near to! It's the--city, Olivicia," enlightened
Rebecca Mary, gently, to insure against shock. "Aunt Olivia's
going--to--the--city."

In Rebecca Mary's dreamings it had always been THE city. It did
not need local habitation and a name; enough that it had streets
upon streets, houses upon houses upon houses, a dazzling swirl of
men, women, and little children--noise, glitter, glory. In her
dreamings the city was something so wondrous and grand that
Heaven might have been its name. The streets upon streets were
not paved with gold, of course--of course she knew they were not
paved with gold! But in spite of herself she knew that she would
be disappointed if they did not shine.

Aunt Olivia had said it that morning. At breakfast--quite matter-
of-factly. Think of saying it matter-of-factly!

"I'm going to the city soon, Rebecca Mary," she had said, between
sips of her tea. "Perhaps by Friday week, but I haven't set the
day, really. There's a good deal to do."

Rebecca Mary had been helping do it all day. Now it was nearly
time for the pageant of red and gold in the west that Rebecca
Mary loved, and she had come up here with the beautiful being to
watch it through the tiny panes of the attic window, but more to