"It would be such a treat. Robert, you think what a treat it
would be to Rebecca Mary!"

"Still, dear--"

"I don't want to be still! I want Rebecca Mary to have that
treat!" But she kissed him in token of being willing to drop it
there--it was her usual token--and ran away to get a little room
ready. There was not a device known to the minister's wife that
she did not use to make that room pleasant.

"Shall I take your pincushion, Rhoda?" Rhoda had come up to help.

"Yes," eagerly, "and I'll write Welcome with the pins."

"And the little fan to put on the wall--the pink one?"

"Yes, yes; let me spread it out, mamma!"

"That's grand. Now if we only had a pink quilt--"

"I 'only have' one!" laughed Rhoda, hurrying after it.

The whole little room when they left, like the pins in the
pincushion, spelled "WELCOME."

Aunt Olivia got up earlier than usual one day and went about the
house for a survey. The valise and the little carpetbag she
carried downstairs and out on to the front steps. Her face was
whitened as if by a long night's vigil. When she called Rebecca