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Rebecca Of Sunnybrook Farm

by Kate Douglas Wiggin
TO MY MOTHER

Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair;
Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful Dawn;

A dancing Shape, an Image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

Wordsworth.
CONTENTS

I. "WE ARE SEVEN"
II. REBECCA'S RELATIONS

III. A DIFFERENCE IN HEARTS
IV. REBECCA'S POINT OF VIEW

V. WISDOM'S WAYS
VI. SUNSHINE IN A SHADY PLACE

VII. RIVERBORO SECRETS
VIII. COLOR OF ROSE

IX ASHES OF ROSES
X. RAINBOW BRIDGES

XI. "THE STIRRING OF THE POWERS"
XII. "SEE THE PALE MARTYR"

XIII. SNOW-WHITE; ROSE-RED
XIV. MR. ALADDIN

XV. THE BANQUET LAMP
XVI. SEASONS OF GROWTH

XVII. GRAY DAYS AND GOLD
XVIII. REBECCA REPRESENTS THE FAMILY

XIX. DEACON ISRAEL'S SUCCESSOR
XX. A CHANGE OF HEART

XXI. THE SKY LINE WIDENS
XXII. CLOVER BLOSSOMS AND SUNFLOWERS

XXIII. THE HILL DIFFICULTY
XXIV. ALADDIN RUBS HIS LAMP

XXV. ROSES OF JOY
XXVI. OVER THE TEACUPS

XXVII. "THE VISION SPLENDID"
XXVIII. "TH' INEVITABLE YOKE"

XXIX. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
XXX. "GOOD-BY, SUNNYBROOK!"

XXXI. AUNT MIRANDA'S APOLOGY
REBECCA

OF SUNNYBROOK FARM
REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM

"WE ARE SEVEN"
The old stage coach was rumbling along

the dusty road that runs from Maplewood
to Riverboro. The day was as warm

as midsummer, though it was only the middle of
May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the

horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight
of the fact that he carried the mail. The hills were

many, and the reins lay loosely in his hands as he
lolled back in his seat and extended one foot and

leg luxuriously over the dashboard. His brimmed
hat of worn felt was well pulled over his eyes, and

he revolved a quid of tobacco in his left cheek.
There was one passenger in the coach,--a small

dark-haired person in a glossy buff calico dress.
She was so slender and so stiffly starched that

she slid from space to space on the leather cushions,
though she braced herself against the middle

seat with her feet and extended her cotton-gloved
hands on each side, in order to maintain some sort

of balance. Whenever the wheels sank farther than
usual into a rut, or jolted suddenly over a stone,

she bounded involuntarily into the air, came down
again, pushed back her funny little straw hat, and

picked up or settled more firmly a small pink sun
shade, which seemed to be her chief responsibility,

--unless we except a bead purse, into which
she looked whenever the condition of the roads

would permit, finding great apparent satisfaction
in that its precious contents neither disappeared

nor grew less. Mr. Cobb guessed nothing of these
harassing details of travel, his business being to

carry people to their destinations, not, necessarily,
to make them comfortable on the way. Indeed he

had forgotten the very existence of this one
unnoteworthy little passenger.

When he was about to leave the post-office in
Maplewood that morning, a woman had alighted

from a wagon, and coming up to him, inquired
whether this were the Riverboro stage, and if he

were Mr. Cobb. Being answered in the affirmative,
she nodded to a child who was eagerly waiting

for the answer, and who ran towards her as if she
feared to be a moment too late. The child might

have been ten or eleven years old perhaps, but
whatever the number of her summers, she had an

air of being small for her age. Her mother helped
her into the stage coach, deposited a bundle and

a bouquet of lilacs beside her, superintended the
"roping on" behind of an old hair trunk, and finally

paid the fare, counting out the silver with great
care.

"I want you should take her to my sisters'
in Riverboro," she said. "Do you know Mi-

randy and Jane Sawyer? They live in the brick
house."

Lord bless your soul, he knew 'em as well as
if he'd made 'em!

"Well, she's going there, and they're expecting
her. Will you keep an eye on her, please? If she

can get out anywhere and get with folks, or get
anybody in to keep her company, she'll do it.

Good-by, Rebecca; try not to get into any mischief,
and sit quiet, so you'll look neat an' nice when

you get there. Don't be any trouble to Mr. Cobb.
--You see, she's kind of excited.--We came on

the cars from Temperance yesterday, slept all night
at my cousin's, and drove from her house--eight

miles it is--this morning."
"Good-by, mother, don't worry; you know it

isn't as if I hadn't traveled before."
The woman gave a short sardonic laugh and said

in an explanatory way to Mr. Cobb, "She's been to
Wareham and stayed over night; that isn't much

to be journey-proud on!"
"It WAS TRAVELING, mother," said the child

eagerly and willfully. "It was leaving the farm, and
putting up lunch in a basket, and a little riding

and a little steam cars, and we carried our nightgowns."
"Don't tell the whole village about it, if we did,"

said the mother, interrupting the reminiscences of
this experienced voyager. "Haven't I told you

before," she whispered, in a last attempt at
discipline, "that you shouldn't talk about night

gowns and stockings and--things like that, in a
loud tone of voice, and especially when there's

men folks round?"
"I know, mother, I know, and I won't. All I

want to say is"--here Mr. Cobb gave a cluck,
slapped the reins, and the horses started sedately

on their daily task--"all I want to say is that it
is a journey when"--the stage was really under

way now and Rebecca had to put her head out of
the window over the door in order to finish her

sentence--"it IS a journey when you carry a
nightgown!"

The objectionable word, uttered in a high treble,
floated back to the offended ears of Mrs. Randall,

who watched the stage out of sight, gathered up
her packages from the bench at the store door,

and stepped into the wagon that had been standing
at the hitching-post. As she turned the horse's

head towards home she rose to her feet for a
moment, and shading her eyes with her hand, looked

at a cloud of dust in the dim distance.
"Mirandy'll have her hands full, I guess," she

said to herself; "but I shouldn't wonder if it would
be the making of Rebecca."

All this had been half an hour ago, and the sun,
the heat, the dust, the contemplation of errands to

be done in the great metropolis of Milltown, had
lulled Mr. Cobb's never active mind into complete

oblivion as to his promise of keeping an eye on
Rebecca.

Suddenly he heard a small voice above the rattle
and rumble of the wheels and the creaking of the

harness. At first he thought it was a cricket, a tree
toad, or a bird, but having determined the direction

from which it came, he turned his head over his
shoulder and saw a small shape hanging as far out

of the window as safety would allow. A long black
braid of hair swung with the motion of the coach;

the child held her hat in one hand and with the
other made ineffectual attempts to stab the driver

with her microscopic sunshade.
"Please let me speak!" she called.

Mr. Cobb drew up the horses obediently.
"Does it cost any more to ride up there with

you?" she asked. "It's so slippery and shiny down
here, and the stage is so much too big for me, that

I rattle round in it till I'm 'most black and blue.
And the windows are so small I can only see pieces

of things, and I've 'most broken my neck stretching
round to find out whether my trunk has fallen

off the back. It's my mother's trunk, and she's
very choice of it."

Mr. Cobb waited until this flow of conversation,
or more properlyspeaking this flood of criticism,

had ceased, and then said jocularly:--
"You can come up if you want to; there ain't

no extry charge to sit side o' me." Whereupon he
helped her out, "boosted" her up to the front seat,

and resumed his own place.
Rebecca sat down carefully, smoothing her dress

under her with painstaking precision, and putting
her sunshade under its extended folds between the

driver and herself. This done she pushed back her
hat, pulled up her darned white cotton gloves, and

said delightedly:--
"Oh! this is better! This is like traveling! I

am a real passenger now, and down there I felt like
our setting hen when we shut her up in a coop. I

hope we have a long, long ways to go?"
"Oh! we've only just started on it," Mr. Cobb

responded genially; "it's more 'n two hours."
"Only two hours," she sighed "That will be



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