arly. She had thought that at last she was proof against
temptation, but she had not thought of this. She was not prepared for
Rebecca Mary, here in her little rocking chair, rocking her little
soul-doll to sleep.

The angels were used to watching o'er, but Aunt Olivia could not bear
it. She went away with a strange, unaccustomed ache in her throat. The
minister's wife would not have wanted her arrested then.

Aunt Olivia tiptoed away as though Rebecca Mary had said, "'Sh!" She was
remembering, as she went, the brief, sweet moment when she had sat like
that and rocked, with the doll the minister's wife dressed, in her arms.
It seemed to establish a new link of kinship between her and Rebecca
Mary.

She ran plump into Duty.

"Oh!" she gasped. She was a little stunned. Aunt Olivia's Duty was
solid.

"I know where you've been. I tried get there in time."

"You're too late," Aunt Olivia said, firmly, "Don't stop me; there's
something I must do before it gets too dark. It's six o'clock now."

"Wait!" commanded Duty. "Are you crazy? You don't mean--"

"Go back there and look at that child--and hear what she's singing! Stay
long enough to take it all in--don't hurry."

But Duty barred her way, grim and stern.

Palely she put up both her hands and thrust it aside. She did not once
look back at it.

Already it was dusky under the guest chamber window. She had to stoop
and peer and feel in the long tangle of grass. She kept on patiently
with the Plummer kind of patience that never gave up. She was eager and
smiling, as though something pleasant were at the end of the peering and
stooping and feeling.

Aunt Olivia was hunting for a key.

The Plummer Kind

The doll's name was Olivicia.

Rebecca Mary had evolved the name from her inner consciousness and her
intense gratitude to Aunt Olivia and the minister's wife. She had put
Aunt Olivia first with instinctive loyalty, though in the secret little
closet of her soul she had longed to call the beautiful being Felicia,
intact and sweet. She did not know the meaning of Felicia, but she knew
that the doll, as it lay in the loving cradle of her arms, gazing upward
with changeless placidity and graciousness, looked as one should look
whose name was Felicia. Greater compliment than this Rebecca Mary could
not have paid the minister's wife.

"Olivicia," she had placed the being on the sill of the attic window,
stood confronting, addressing it: "Olivicia, it's c