"AnnieHamiltonDonnell-RebeccaMary" - читать интересную книгу автора (Donnell Annie Hamilton)

"I've over-'n'-overed 'leven sheets," the steady little voice went
on, because Aunt Olivia was waiting, and it must, "and you said I
did 'em pretty well. I tried to. I was going to do the other one
well, till you said there was going to be another dozen. I couldn't
BEAR another dozen, Aunt Olivia, so I decided to stop. When Thomas
Jefferson crowed I sewed the hundred-and-oneth stitch. That's all
there's ever a-going to be."

Rebecca Mary stepped back a step or two, as if finishing a speech
and retiring from her audience. There was even the effect of a bow
in the sudden collapse of the stiff little body. It was Aunt
Olivia's turn now to respond--and Aunt Olivia responded:

"You've had your say; now I'll have mine. Listen to me, Rebecca
Mary Plummer! Here's this sheet, and here's this needle in it.
When you get good and ready you can go on sewing. You won't have
anything to eat till you do. I've got through."

The grim figure swept right-about face and tramped into the house as
though to the battle-roll of drums. Rebecca Mary stayed behind,
face to face with her fate.

"She's a Plummer, so it'11 be SO," Rebecca Mary thought, with the
dull little thud of a weight falling into her heart. Rebecca Mary
was a Plummer too, but she did not think of that, unless the un-
swerving determination in her stout little heart was the unconscious
recognition of it.

"I wonder"--her gaze wandered out towards the currant-bushes and
came to rest absently on Thomas Jefferson's big, white bulk--"I
wonder if it hurts very much." She meant, to starve. A long vista
of food-less days opened before her, and in their contemplation the
weight in her heart grew very heavy indeed.

"We were GOING to have layer-cake for supper. I'm VERY fond of
layer-cake," Rebecca Mary sighed, "I suppose, though, after a few
weeks"--she shuddered--"I shall be glad to have ANYTHING--just
common things, like crackers and skim-milk. Perhaps I shall want to
eat a--horse. I've heard of folks--You get very unparticular when
you're starving."

It was five o'clock. They WERE going to have supper at half past.
She could hear the tea things clinking in the house. She stole up
to a window. There was Aunt Olivia setting the layer-cake on the
table. It looked plump and rich, and it was sugared on top.

"There's strawberry jam in between it," mused Rebecca Mary,
regretfully. "I wish it was apple jelly. I could bear it better if
it was apple jelly." But it was jam. And there was honey, too, to