being haunted. I don't believe in
such things. Be you crazy?" Mrs. Dent spoke with gathering force.
The colour flashed back to her cheeks.

"No," said Rebecca shortly. "I ain't crazy yet, but I shall be if this
keeps on much longer. I'm going to find out where that girl is before
night."

Mrs. Dent eyed her.

"What be you going to do?"

"I'm going to Lincoln."

A faint triumphant smile overspread Mrs. Dent's large face.

"You can't," said she; "there ain't any train."

"No train?"

"No; there ain't any afternoon train from the Falls to Lincoln."

"Then I'm going over to the Slocums' again to-night."

However, Rebecca did not go; such a rain came up as deterred even her
resolution, and she had only her best dresses with her. Then in the
evening came the letter from the Michigan village which she had left
nearly a week ago. It was from her cousin, a single woman, who had
come to keep her house while she was away. It was a pleasant
unexciting letter enough, all the first of it, and related mostly how
she missed Rebecca; how she hoped she was having pleasant weather and
kept her health; and how her friend, Mrs. Greenaway, had come to stay
with her since she had felt lonesome the first night in the house; how
she hoped Rebecca would have no objections to this, although nothing
had been said about it, since she had not realized that she might be
nervous alone. The cousin was painfully conscientious, hence the
letter. Rebecca smiled in spite of her disturbed mind as she read it,
then her eye caught the postscript. That was in a different hand,
purporting to be written by the friend, Mrs. Hannah Greenaway,
informing her that the cousin had fallen down the cellar stairs and
broken her hip, and was in a dangerous condition, and begging Rebecca
to return at once, as she herself was rheumatic and unable to nurse her
properly, and no one else could be obtained.

Rebecca looked at Mrs. Dent, who had come to her room with the letter
quite late; it was half-past nine, and she had gone upstairs for the
night.

"Where did this come from?" she asked.

"Mr. Amblecrom brought it," she replied.

"Who's he?"

"The postmaster. He often brings the letters that come on the late
mail. He knows I ain't anybody to send. He brought yours about your
coming. He said he and his wife came over on the ferry-boat with you."

"I remember him," Rebecca replied shortly. "There's bad news in this
letter."

Mrs. Dent's f