child would make good use of any
advantage--"

"You mean I ought to send her away? Well, I'm ready to--I said I'd leave
it to you. Where shall I send her? If there was only--I don't suppose
there's some place near to? Children go home Friday nights sometimes,
don't they?"

"There is no school near enough for that, I'm afraid," the minister
said, gently. He could not bear the look in Miss Olivia's eyes.

"It hurt," he told his wife afterwards. "I wish she hadn't asked me,
Felicia."

"I know, dear, but it's the penalty of being a minister. Ministers'
hearts ought to be coated with--with asbestos or something, so the looks
in people's eyes wouldn't burn through. I'm glad she didn't ask ME!"

"It will nearly kill them both," ran on the minister's thoughts, aloud.
"You know how it was when Miss Olivia was at the hospital."

"Robert!"--the minister's wife's tone was reproachful--"you're talking
in the future tense! You said 'will.' Then you advised her to send
Rebecca Mary away!"

"Guilty," pleaded the minister. "What else could I do?"

"You could have offered to teach her yourself"--with prompt inspiration.
"Oh, Robert, why didn't you?"

"Felicia!--my dear!"--for the minister was modest.

"You know plenty for two Rebecca Marys," she triumphed. "Didn't you
appropriate all the honors at college, you selfish boy!"

"It's too late now, dear." But the minister's eyes thanked her, and the
big clasp of his arms. A minister may be mortal.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," spoke the minister's wife, in riddles.
"We'll wait and see."

"But, Felicia--but, dear, they're both them Plummers."

"Maybe they are and maybe they aren't," laughed she.

That night Aunt Olivia told Rebecca Mary--after she went to bed, quite
calmly:

"Rebecca Mary, how would you like to go away to school? For I'm going to
send you, my dear."

"'Away--to school--my dear!'" echoed Rebecca Mary, sitting upright in
bed. Her slight figure stretched up rigid and preternaturally tall in
the dim light.

"Yes; the minister advises it--I left it to him. He thinks you ought to
have advantages." Aunt Olivia slipped down suddenly beside the little
rigid figure and touched it rather timidly. She felt a little in awe of
the Rebecca Mary who knew more than her teacher did.

"They all seem to think you're--smart, my dear," Aunt Olivia said, and
she would scarcely have believed it could be so hard to say it. For the
life of her she could not keep the pride