Rebecca Mary

It was her legs Rebecca Mary measured against the woodshed wall. It was her legs she was ashamed of. No wonder the minister's wife had said to the minister going home from meeti...

“Oh, Thomas Jefferson,” she whispered down to the heap of soft feathers, “I'm going to smooth you this way all night for tomorrow you die!” Her voice even in a whisper had a sol...

“Robert”—the children had gone out together; the minister's wife's eyes were unashamedly wet—“Robert, I wish you were a—a sheriff instead of a minister. Because I think I would...

“Tomas Jefferson passed away at ten minutes of three this afternoon blessed are them that die in the Lord. The minnister did not get here in time. I wish I had asked him to run...

But Rebecca Mary set her little pointed chin between her little brown palms and pondered, and out of the pondering grew a plan so ambitious and so daring that Rebecca Mary gaspe...

Rebecca Mary took another stitch. Then another. “Ninety-sevvun, ninety- eight,” she counted aloud, her little pointed face gravely intent. She waited the briefest possible space...

Aunt Olivia hummed no relieved little tune. The pride in her heart battled with the Dread there and went down. Aunt Olivia did not call the Dread by any other name. It was Duty...