comfortable and wishing plaintively that Jane
wouldn't always insist on being sick at the same time she was, she
decided that Rebecca must go to the meeting in their stead. "You'll be
better than nobody, Rebecca," she said flatteringly; "your aunt Jane
shall write an excuse from afternoon school for you; you can wear your
rubber boots and come home by the way of the meetin' house. This Mr.
Burch, if I remember right, used to know your grandfather Sawyer, and
stayed here once when he was candidatin'. He'll mebbe look for us
there, and you must just go and represent the family, an' give him our
respects. Be careful how you behave. Bow your head in prayer; sing all
the hymns, but not too loud and bold; ask after Mis' Strout's boy; tell
everybody what awful colds we've got; if you see a good chance, take
your pocket handkerchief and wipe the dust off the melodeon before the
meetin' begins, and get twenty-five cents out of the sittin' room
match-box in case there should be a collection."

Rebecca willingly assented. Anything interested her, even a village
missionary meeting, and the idea of representing the family was rather
intoxicating.

The service was held in the Sunday-school room, and although the Rev.
Mr. Burch was on the platform when Rebecca entered, there were only a
dozen persons present. Feeling a little shy and considerably too young
for this assemblage, Rebecca sought the shelter of a friendly face, and
seeing Mrs. Robinson in one of the side seats near the front, she
walked up the aisle and sat beside her.

"Both my aunts had bad colds," she said softly, "and sent me to
represent the family."

"That's Mrs. Burch on the platform with her husband," whispered Mrs.
Robinson. "She's awful tanned up, ain't she? If you're goin' to save
souls seems like you hev' to part with your complexion. Eudoxy Morton
ain't come yet; I hope to the land she will, or Mis' Deacon Milliken'll
pitch the tunes where we can't reach 'em with a ladder; can't you
pitch, afore she gits her breath and clears her throat?"

Mrs. Burch was a slim, frail little woman with dark hair, a broad low
forehead, and patient mouth. She was dressed in a well-worn black silk,
and looked so tired that Rebecca's heart went out to her.

"They're poor as Job's turkey," whispered Mrs. Robinson; "but if you
give 'em anything they'd turn right round and give it to the heathen.
His congregation up to Parsonsfield clubbed together and give him that
gold watch