wet as sops. Draw up to the stove. I made a fire, hot as it was,
thinkin' I wanted somethin' warm for my supper, bein' kind o' lonesome
without mother. She's settin' up with Seth Strout to-night. There,
we'll hang your soppy hat on the nail, put your jacket over the chair
rail, an' then you turn your back to the stove an' dry yourself good."

Uncle Jerry had never before said so many words at a time, but he had
caught sight of the child's red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and his
big heart went out to her in her trouble, quite regardless of any
circumstances that might have caused it.

Rebecca stood still for a moment until uncle Jerry took his seat again
at the table, and then, unable to contain herself longer, cried, "Oh,
Mr. Cobb, I've run away from the brick house, and I want to go back to
the farm. Will you keep me to-night and take me up to Maplewood in the
stage? I haven't got any money for my fare, but I'll earn it somehow
afterwards."

"Well, I guess we won't quarrel 'bout money, you and me," said the old
man; "and we've never had our ride together, anyway, though we allers
meant to go down river, not up."

"I shall never see Milltown now!" sobbed Rebecca.

"Come over here side o' me an' tell me all about it," coaxed uncle
Jerry. "Jest set down on that there wooden cricket an' out with the
whole story."

Rebecca leaned her aching head against Mr. Cobb's homespun knee and
recounted the history of her trouble. Tragic as that history seemed to
her passionate and undisciplined mind, she told it truthfully and
without exaggeration.

X

RAINBOW BRIDGES

Uncle Jerry coughed and stirred in his chair a good deal during
Rebecca's recital, but he carefully concealed any undue feeling of
sympathy, just muttering, "Poor little soul! We'll see what we can do
for her!"

"You will take me to Maplewood, won't you, Mr. Cobb?" begged Rebecca
piteously.

"Don't you fret a mite," he answered, with a crafty little notion at
the back of his mind; "I'll see the lady passenger through somehow. Now
take a bite o' somethin' to eat, child. Spread some o' that tomato
preserve on your bread; draw up to the table. How'd you like to set in
mother's place an' pour me out another cup o' hot tea?"

Mr. Jeremiah Cobb's mental machinery was simple, and did not move very
smoothly save when propelled by his affection or sympathy. In the
present case these were both employed to his advantage, and mourning
his stupidity and prayin