"My Rhoda--you
ought to hear my Rhoda set her up. She thinks Rebecca Mary knows
more than the teacher does."
"Rhoda's smart, too," breathed Duty in Aunt Olivia's ear.
"So you see, dear Miss Olivia, the child would make good use of
any advantage--"
"You mean I ought to send her away? Well, I'm ready to--I said
I'd leave it to you. Where shall I send her? If there was only
--I don't suppose there's some place near to? Children go home
Friday nights sometimes, don't they?"
"There is no school near enough for that, I'm afraid," the
minister said, gently. He could not bear the look in Miss
Olivia's eyes.
"It hurt," he told his wife afterwards. "I wish she hadn't asked
me, Felicia."
"I know, dear, but it's the penalty of being a minister. Ministers'
hearts ought to be coated with--with asbestos or something, so the
looks in people's eyes wouldn't burn through. I'm glad she didn't
ask ME!"
"It will nearly kill them both," ran on the minister's thoughts, aloud.
"You know how it was when Miss Olivia was at the hospital."
"Robert!"--the minister's wife's tone was reproachful--"you're
talking in the future tense! You said 'will.' Then you advised
her to send Rebecca Mary away!"
"Guilty," pleaded the minister. "What else could I do?"
"You could have offered to teach her yourself"--with prompt
inspiration.
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