"I should
know it by the family resemblance."
"We're both Plummers," Aunt Olivia answered, gravely. "Won't you come
up on the porch and take a seat?"
"No, I'll sit down here on the steps--I'd rather. I think I'll sit
on the lowest step for I've come on a very humble errand! I'm Rebecca
Mary's teacher."
"Oh!" It was all Aunt Olivia could manage, for a sudden horror had
come upon her. She had a distinct remembrance of being at the Tony
Trumbullses when the school teacher came to call.
"It's--it's rather hard to say it." The young person on the lowest
step laughed nervously. "I'd a good deal rather not. But I think so
much of Rebecca Mary--"
The horror grew in Aunt Olivia's soul. It was something terribly
like that the Tony Trumbullses' teacher had said. And like this:
"It hurts--there! But I made up my mind it was my duty to come up
here and say it, and so I've come. I'm sorry to have to say--"
"Don't!" ejaculated Aunt Olivia, trembling on her Plummer pedestal.
For she was laboring with the impulse to refuse to listen to this
intruder, to drive her away--to say: "I won't believe a word you say!
You may as well go home."
"Hoity-toity!" breathed Duty in her ear. It saved her.
"Well?" she said, gently. "Go on."
"I'm sorry to say I can't teach Rebecca Mary any more, Miss Plummer.
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