nteresting. Aunt Olivia was not to
worry about the rubbers, and Rebecca Mary would never forget to air her
clothes when they came from the wash. Yes, she had aired the nightgown
that Aunt Olivia ironed the last thing. No, she hadn't needed any
liniment yet, but she wouldn't get any in her eyes.

Aunt Olivia's letters were to the point and calm, as though Duty stood
peering over her shoulder as she wrote. She was glad Rebecca Mary
liked the bones, but she was a little surprised. She was glad about the
rubbers and the wash; she was glad there had been no need yet for the
liniment. It was a good thing to rub on a sore throat. The minister's
wife had been over with her work she said Rhoda missed Rebecca Mary.
Yes, the little, white cat was well--no, she hadn't caught any mice.
The calla lily had two buds, the Northern Spy tree was not going to bear
very well.

"Robert, I've been to see Miss Olivia," the minister's wife said at tea.

"Yes?" The minister waited. He knew it was coming.

"She was knitting stockings for Rebecca Mary. Robert, she sat there and
smiled till I had to come home to cry!"

"My dear!--do you want me to cry, too?"

"I'm a-going to," sniffed Rhoda. "I feel it coming."

"She is so lonely, Robert! It would break your heart to see her smile.
How do I know she is? Oh no--no, she didn't say she was! But I saw her
eyes and she let the little, white cat get up in her lap!"

"Proof enough," the minister said, gently.

Between the two of them--the child at school and Aunt Olivia at
home--letters came and went for six weeks. Aunt Olivia wrote six,
Rebecca Mary six. All the letters were terse and brief and unemotional.
Weather, bones, little white cats, liniment--everything in them but
loneliness or love. Rebecca Mary began all hers "Dear Aunt Olivia," and
ended them all "Respectfully your niece, Rebecca Mary Plummer."

"Dear Rebecca Mary," began Aunt Olivia's. "Your aff. aunt, Olivia
Plummer," they closed. Yet both their hearts were breaking. Some hearts
break quicker than others; Plummer hearts hold out splendidly, but in
the end--

In the end Aunt Olivia went to see the minister and was closeted with
him for a little. The minister's wife could hear them talking--mostly
the minister--but she could not hear what they said.

"It's come," she nodded, sagely. "I was sure it would. That's what the
little, white cat purred when she rubbed against my skirts, 'She can't
stand it much longer. She doesn't slee