ng her Aunt Miranda's opposition to the intimacy. Rebecca's
"taste for low company" was a source of continual anxiety to her aunt.

"Anything that's human flesh is good enough for her!" Miranda groaned to
Jane. "She'll ride with the rag-sack-and-bottle peddler just as quick as
she would with the minister; she always sets beside the St. Vitus' dance
young one at Sabbath school; and she's forever riggin' and onriggin'
that dirty Simpson baby! She reminds me of a puppy that'll always go to
everybody that'll have him!"

It was thought very creditable to Mrs. Fogg that she sent for Clara
Belle to live with her and go to school part of the year.

"She'll be useful" said Mrs. Fogg, "and she'll be out of her father's
way, and so keep honest; though she's no awful hombly I've no fears for
her. A girl with her red hair, freckles, and cross-eyes can't fall into
no kind of sin, I don't believe."

Mrs. Fogg requested that Clara Belle should be started on her journey
from Acreville by train and come the rest of the way by stage, and she
was disturbed to receive word on Sunday that Mr. Simpson had borrowed a
"good roader" from a new acquaintance, and would himself drive the girl
from Acreville to Riverboro, a distance of thirty-five miles. That he
would arrive in their vicinity on the very night before the flag-raising
was thought by Riverboro to be a public misfortune, and several
residents hastily determined to deny themselves a sight of the
festivities and remain watchfully on their own premises.

On Monday afternoon the children were rehearsing their songs at the
meeting-house. As Rebecca came out on the broad wooden steps she watched
Mrs. Peter Meserve's buggy out of sight, for in front, wrapped in a
cotton sheet, lay the previous flag. After a few chattering good-bys
and weather prophecies with the other girls, she started on her homeward
walk, dropping in at the parsonage to read her verses to the minister.

He welcomed her gladly as she removed her white cotton gloves (hastily
slipped on outside the door, for ceremony) and pushed back the funny hat
with the yellow and black porcupine quills--the hat with which she made
her first appearance in Riverboro society.

"You've heard the beginning, Mr. Baxter; now will you please tell me if
you like the last verse?" she asked, taking out her paper. "I've only
read it to Alice Robinson, and I think perhaps she can never be a poet,
though she's a splendid writer. Last year when sh