YOU'RE not going to miss Rebecca Mary--"
"I shall miss her," Duty murmured. "I was awake all night, too,
dreading it. You didn't know, but I was there."
The last day, when it came, seemed a little--a good deal--like
that other day when Aunt Olivia went away, only it was the other
way about this time. Rebecca Mary was going away on this day.
The things packed snugly in the big valise were her things; it was
she, Rebecca Mary, who would unpack them in a wondrous, strange
place. It was Rebecca Mary the minister's wife and Rhoda came to
bid good-bye.
Aunt Olivia went to the station in the stage with the child.
She did not speak much on the way, but sat firmly straight and
smiled. Duty had told her the last thing to smile. But Duty had
not trusted her; unseen and uninvited, Duty had slipped into the
jolting old vehicle between Aunt Olivia and Rebecca Mary.
"She isn't the Plummer she was once," sighed Duty.
But at the little station, in those few final moments, two Plummers,
an old one and a young one, waited quietly together. Neither of them
broke down nor made ado. Duty retired in palpable chagrin.
"Good-bye, my dear," Aunt Olivia said, steadily, though her lips
were white.
"Good-bye, Aunt Olivia," Rebecca Mary Plummer said, steadily.
"I'm very MUCH obliged to you for sending me.
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