My Aunt Olivia said to me as folows, I have desided
to pay you a weakly alowance of 10 cents a weak Rebecca Mary. And I
never asked her to. And she never said anything about charging me for
my sins. I was going to ask her but I found out she was poor. That was a
mistake, she isent. She must be SOME well of I think for 10 cents seams
a great deal to have of your own every weak. But I shant buy crimpers.
Ime going to buy a present for Aunt Olivia byamby. Ime very happy. I
wish I knew how to spell hooray.'"

Suddenly Rebecca Mary was on her feet, waving the cookbook jubilantly.

"Hoo-ray! Hoo-ray! Thomas Jefferson!" she shouted, surprising the gentle
Sunday calm. She surprised Thomas Jefferson, too, but he was equal to
the occasion--Thomas Jefferson was a gentleman.

"Hoo-ra-a-a-ay!" he crowed, splendidly, with a fine effect of clapping
his hands.

This time there could be no doubt. This was applause.

The Bereavement

Thomas Jefferson was losing his appetite. Even Aunt Olivia noticed it,
but it did not worry her as it did Rebecca Mary.

"He's always had as many appetites as a cat's got lives--he's got eight
good ones left," she said, calmly.

But Rebecca Mary was not calm. It seemed to her that Thomas Jefferson
was getting thinner every day.

"Oh, I can feel your bones!" she cried, in distress. "Your bones are
coming through, you poor, dear Thomas Jefferson! Won't you eat just one
more kernel of corn--just this one for Rebecca Mary? I'd do it for you.
Shut your eyes and swallow it right down and you'll never know it."

That day Thomas Jefferson listened to pleading, but not the next
day--nor the next. He went about dispiritedly, and the last few times
that he crowed it made Rebecca Mary cry. Even Aunt Olivia shook her
head.

"I could do it better than that myself," she said, soberly.

Rebecca Mary hunted bugs and angleworms and arranged them temptingly in
rows, but the big, white rooster passed them by with a feeble peck
or two. Bits of bread failed to tempt him, or even his favorite cooky
crumbs. His eighth appetite departed--his seventh, sixth, fifth, fourth.

"He lost his third one yesterday," lamented Rebecca Mary, "and today
he's lost his second. It's pretty bad when he hasn't only one left, Aunt
Olivia."

"Pretty bad," nodded Aunt Olivia. She was stirring up a warm mush.
When Rebecca Mary had gone upstairs she took it to Thomas Jefferson
and commanded him to eat. He was beyond coaxing--per