her eyes from the
lamplight; but it was a piece of strategy that gave her an opportunity
to whisper, "How about cookies?"

"Do you think it's worth while?" sibilated Miss Miranda in answer.

"The Perkinses always do."

"All right. You know where they be."

Rebecca moved quietly towards the door, and the young Burches
cataracted after her as if they could not bear a second's separation.
In five minutes they returned, the little ones bearing plates of thin
caraway wafers,--hearts, diamonds, and circles daintily sugared, and
flecked with caraway seed raised in the garden behind the house. These
were a specialty of Miss Jane's, and Rebecca carried a tray with six
tiny crystal glasses filled with dandelion wine, for which Miss Miranda
had been famous in years gone by. Old Deacon Israel had always had it
passed, and he had bought the glasses himself in Boston. Miranda
admired them greatly, not only for their beauty but because they held
so little. Before their advent the dandelion wine had been served in
sherry glasses.

As soon as these refreshments--commonly called a "colation" in
Riverboro--had been genteelly partaken of, Rebecca looked at the clock,
rose from her chair in the children's corner, and said cheerfully,
"Come! time for little missionaries to be in bed!"

Everybody laughed at this, the big missionaries most of all, as the
young people shook hands and disappeared with Rebecca.

XX

A CHANGE OF HEART

"That niece of yours is the most remarkable girl I have seen in years,"
said Mr. Burch when the door closed.

"She seems to be turnin' out smart enough lately, but she's consid'able
heedless," answered Miranda, "an' most too lively."

"We must remember that it is deficient, not excessive vitality, that
makes the greatest trouble in this world," returned Mr. Burch.

"She'd make a wonderful missionary," said Mrs. Burch; "with her voice,
and her magnetism, and her gift of language."

"If I was to say which of the two she was best adapted for, I'd say
she'd make a better heathen," remarked Miranda curtly.

"My sister don't believe in flattering children," hastily interpolated
Jane, glancing toward Mrs. Burch, who seemed somewhat shocked, and was
about to open her lips to ask if Rebecca was not a "professor."

Mrs. Cobb had been looking for this question all the evening and
dreading some allusion to her favorite as gifted in prayer. She had
taken an instantaneous and illogical dislike to the Rev. M