Ide rather have Aunt
Olivia take me up than to have the Lord."
It was when she shut the battered little book this time that
Rebecca Mary remembered one or two things that had happened the
morning Aunt Olivia went away. It was queer how she HADN'T
remembered them before.
She remembered that Aunt Olivia had taken her sharp little face
between her own hands and looked down wistfully at it--wistfully,
Rebecca Mary remembered now, though she did not call it by that
name. She remembered Aunt Olivia had said, "You needn't hem
anything unless it's for the minister's wife--never mind the
towels I put in." That was almost the last thing she had said.
She had put her head out of the stage door to say it. Rebecca
Mary had hemmed a towel each day. There were but two left, and
she resolved to hem both of those tomorrow. A sudden little
longing was born within her for more towels to hem for Aunt
Olivia.
It was nearly three weeks after Rebecca Mary's entrance into the
minister's family when the letter came. It was directed to
Rebecca Mary, and lay on her plate when she came home from
school.
"Oh, look, you've got a letter, Rebecca Mary!" heralded Rhoda,
joyfully. Then her face fell, for maybe the letter would say Aunt
Olivia was coming home.
"Is it from your aunt Olivia?" she asked, anxiously.
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