Uncle Jerry coughed and stirred in hischair a good deal during Rebecca's recital,but he carefully concealed any unduefeeling of sympathy, just muttering, "Poor little soul!

　　We'll see what we can do for her!""You will take me to Maplewood, won't you, Mr.

　　Cobb?" begged Rebecca piteously.

　　"Don't you fret a mite," he answered, with acrafty little notion at the back of his mind; "I'llsee the lady passenger through somehow. Nowtake a bite o' somethin' to eat, child. Spread someo' that tomato preserve on your bread; draw up tothe table. How'd you like to set in mother's placean' pour me out another cup o' hot tea?"Mr. Jeremiah Cobb's mental machinery wassimple, and did not move very smoothly save whenpropelled by his affection or sympathy. In thepresent case these were both employed to hisadvantage, and mourning his stupidity and prayingfor some flash of inspiration to light his path, heblundered along, trusting to Providence.

　　Rebecca, comforted by the old man's tone, andtimidly enjoying the dignity of sitting in Mrs. Cobb'sseat and lifting the blue china teapot, smiled faintly,smoothed her hair, and dried her eyes.

　　"I suppose your mother'll be turrible glad tosee you back again?" queried Mr. Cobb.

　　A tiny fear--just a baby thing--in the bottomof Rebecca's heart stirred and grew larger the momentit was touched with a question.

　　"She won't like it that I ran away, I s'pose, andshe'll be sorry that I couldn't please aunt Mirandy;but I'll make her understand, just as I did you.""I s'pose she was thinkin' o' your schoolin',lettin' you come down here; but land! you can go toschool in Temperance, I s'pose?""There's only two months' school now inTemperance, and the farm 's too far from all the otherschools.""Oh well! there's other things in the worldbeside edjercation," responded uncle Jerry, attackinga piece of apple pie.

　　"Ye--es; though mother thought that was goingto be the making of me," returned Rebecca sadly,giving a dry little sob as she tried to drink her tea.

　　"It'll be nice for you to be all together againat the farm--such a house full o' children!"remarked the dear old deceiver, who longed fornothing so much as to cuddle and comfort the poorlittle creature.

　　"It's too full--that's the trouble. But I'llmake Hannah come to Riverboro in my place.""S'pose Mirandy 'n' Jane'll have her? I shouldbe 'most afraid they wouldn't. They'll be kind o'

　　mad at your goin' home, you know, and you can'thardly blame 'em."This was quite a new thought,--that the brickhouse might be closed to Hannah, since she, Rebecca,had turned her back upon its cold hospitality.

　　"How is this school down here in Riverboro--pretty good?" inquired uncle Jerry, whose brainwas working with an altogether unaccustomedrapidity,--so much so that it almost terrified him.

　　"Oh, it's a splendid school! And MissDearborn is a splendid teacher!""You like her, do you? Well, you'd better believeshe returns the compliment. Mother was down tothe store this afternoon buyin' liniment for SethStrout, an' she met Miss Dearborn on the bridge.

　　They got to talkin' 'bout school, for mother hassummer-boarded a lot o' the schoolmarms, an' likes'em. `How does the little Temperance girl gitalong?' asks mother. `Oh, she's the best scholarI have!' says Miss Dearborn. `I could teach schoolfrom sun-up to sun-down if scholars was all likeRebecca Randall,' says she.""Oh, Mr. Cobb, DID she say that?" glowedRebecca, her face sparkling and dimpling in an instant.

　　"I've tried hard all the time, but I'll study thecovers right off of the books now.""You mean you would if you'd ben goin' tostay here," interposed uncle Jerry. "Now ain't ittoo bad you've jest got to give it all up on accounto' your aunt Mirandy? Well, I can't hardly blameye. She's cranky an' she's sour; I should thinkshe'd ben nussed on bonny-clabber an' greenapples. She needs bearin' with; an' I guess youain't much on patience, be ye?""Not very much," replied Rebecca dolefully.

　　"If I'd had this talk with ye yesterday," pursuedMr. Cobb, "I believe I'd have advised ye different.

　　It's too late now, an' I don't feel to say you'veben all in the wrong; but if 't was to do over again,I'd say, well, your aunt Mirandy gives you clothesand board and schoolin' and is goin' to send youto Wareham at a big expense. She's turrible hardto get along with, an' kind o' heaves benefits atyour head, same 's she would bricks; but they'rebenefits jest the same, an' mebbe it's your job tokind o' pay for 'em in good behavior. Jane's aleetle bit more easy goin' than Mirandy, ain't she,or is she jest as hard to please?""Oh, aunt Jane and I get along splendidly,"exclaimed Rebecca; "she's just as good and kindas she can be, and I like her better all the time.

　　I think she kind of likes me, too; she smoothedmy hair once. I'd let her scold me all day long,for she understands; but she can't stand up for meagainst aunt Mirandy; she's about as afraid ofher as I am.""Jane'll be real sorry to-morrow to find you'vegone away, I guess; but never mind, it can't behelped. If she has a kind of a dull time with Mirandy,on account o' her bein' so sharp, why of courseshe'd set great store by your comp'ny. Mother wastalkin' with her after prayer meetin' the other night.

　　`You wouldn't know the brick house, Sarah,' saysJane. `I'm keepin' a sewin' school, an' my scholarhas made three dresses. What do you think o'

　　that,' says she, `for an old maid's child? I'vetaken a class in Sunday-school,' says Jane, `an'

　　think o' renewin' my youth an' goin' to the picnicwith Rebecca,' says she; an' mother declares shenever see her look so young 'n' happy."There was a silence............