ool?"

"Oh--don't!" pleaded Aunt Olivia. "You don't give me any time. There's
no need of hurry--"

"I'm still a Plummer, if you're not," broke in Duty, with ironic
sharpness. "The Plummers were never afraid to look their duty in the
face."

"I'm--I'm looking at you," groaned Aunt Olivia, climbing painfully back
on to her pedestal. "Go ahead and say it. I'm ready--only I guess you've
forgot how long I've had Rebecca Mary. When you've brought a child up--"

"I brought her up myself," calmly. "I ought to know. She wouldn't have
been Rebecca Mary, would she, if I hadn't been right on hand? Who was
it taught her to sew patchwork before she was four years old? And make
sheets--and beds--and bread? Who was it kept her from being a little
tomboy like the minister's girl? Who taught her to walk instead of run,
and eat with her fork, and be a lady? Who was it--"

"Oh, you--you!" sighed Aunt Olivia, trembling for her balance. "You did
'em all. I never could've alone."

"Then"--Duty was justly complacent--"Then perhaps you'll be willing to
leave Rebecca Mary's going away to school to me. She must go at once, as
soon as you can get her read--"

Aunt Olivia tumbled off. She did not wait to pick herself up before she
turned upon this Duty that delighted in torturing her.

"You better get her ready yourself! You better let her down and make her
some nightgowns and count her pocket-handkerchiefs! You think you can do
anything--no, I'M talking now! I guess it's my turn. I guess I've waited
long enough. Maybe you brought Rebecca Mary up, but I'm not going to
leave it to you whether she'd ought to go away to school. She's my
Rebecca Mary, isn't she? Well? It's me that loves her, isn't it--not
you? If I can't love her and stay a Plummer, then I'll--love her. I'm
going to leave it to the minister."

The minister was a little embarrassed. The wistful look in Aunt Olivia's
eyes said, "Say no" so plainly. And he knew he must say yes--the
minister's Duty was imperative, too.

"If she can't get any more good out of the school here--" he began.

"She can't," said Aunt Olivia's Duty for her. "The teacher says she
can't. Rebecca Mary's smart." Then Duty, too, was proud of Rebecca Mary!

"I know she is," said the minister, heartily. "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