I've been here ever since yesterday--twenty-four
hours--and I haven't seen her. Now I'm going to. I want her sent
for."
Mrs. Dent folded her embroidery and rose.
"Well, I don't blame you," she said. "It is high time she came
home. I'll go right over and get her myself."
Rebecca heaved a sigh of relief. She hardly knew what she had
suspected or feared, but she knew that her position had been one of
antagonism if not accusation, and she was sensible of relief.
"I wish you would," she said gratefully, and went back to her
chair, while Mrs. Dent got her shawl and her little white head-tie.
"I wouldn't trouble you, but I do feel as if I couldn't wait any
longer to see her," she remarked apologetically.
"Oh, it ain't any trouble at all," said Mrs. Dent as she went out.
"I don't blame you; you have waited long enough."
Rebecca sat at the window watching breathlessly until Mrs. Dent
came stepping through the yard alone. She ran to the door and saw,
hardly noticing it this time, that the rose-bush was again
violently agitated, yet with no wind evident elsewhere.
"Where is she?" she cried.
Mrs. Dent laughed with stiff lips as she came up the steps over the
terrace.
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