id 'breast,'" Rebecca answered,
with some surprise at the question; and the minister put his hand under
her chin and kissed her softly on the forehead when he said good-by at
the door.

Rebecca walked rapidly along in the gathering twilight, thinking of the
eventful morrow.

As she approached the turning on the left, called the old Milltown
road, she saw a white horse and wagon, driven by a man with a rakish,
flapping, Panama hat, come rapidly around the turn and disappear over
the long hills leading down to the falls. There was no mistaking him;
there never was another Abner Simpson, with his lean height, his bushy
reddish hair, the gay cock of his hat, and the long, piratical,
upturned mustaches, which the boys used to say were used as hat-racks
by the Simpson children at night. The old Milltown road ran past Mrs.
Fogg's house, so he must have left Clara Belle there, and Rebecca's
heart glowed to think that her poor little friend need not miss the
raising.

She began to run now, fearful of being late for supper, and covered the
ground to the falls in a brief time. As she crossed the bridge she
again saw Abner Simpson's team, drawn up at the watering-trough.

Coming a little nearer with the view of inquiring for the family, her
quick eye caught sight of something unexpected. A gust of wind blew up
a corner of a linen lap-robe in the back of the wagon, and underneath
it she distinctly saw the white-sheeted bundle that held the flag; the
bundle with a tiny, tiny spot of red bunting peeping out at one corner.
It is true she had eaten, slept, dreamed red, white, and blue for
weeks, but there was no mistaking the evidence of her senses; the
idolized flag, longed for, worked for, sewed for, that flag was in the
back of Abner Simpson's wagon, and if so, what would become of the
raising?

Acting on blind impulse, she ran toward the watering-trough, calling
out in her clear treble "Mr. Simpson! Oh, Mr. Simpson, will you let me
ride a little way with you and hear all about Clara Belle? I'm going
over to the Centre on an errand." (So she was; a most important
errand,--to recover the flag of her country at present in the hands of
the foe!)

Mr. Simpson turned round in his seat and cried heartily, "Certain sure
I will!" for he liked the fair sex, young and old, and Rebecca had
always been a prime favorite with him. "Climb right in! How's
everybody? Glad to see you! The folks talk 'bout you from sun-up to
sun-down, and Clar