Page:Emma Speed Sampson--The shorn lamb.djvu/329



"Aunt Pearly Gates, may I come in?" asked Rebecca, knocking on the cabin door.

"Come in, chil', I air sho' glad ter see you."

The old woman had a note of excitement in her voice, and Rebecca found her propped high on her pillows, her eyes shining and her hands folded over the counterpane.

Rebecca had never seen those hands quiet before except on Sunday.

"I've lots to tell you, Aunt Pearly Gates. So much has happened since yesterday. Of course you know about poor old Aunt Peachy."

"Yes, chil', I knows."

"Well, then, I'll begin about myself."

Rebecca told of the show the evening before, of her stepmother's dance and the order for the precious trunk with all the letters—letters she was sure would give proof of her being herself, as she expressed it.

"Even the aunts are interested now. I really believe they have honestly doubted me all the time, and maybe it has been kind of hard on