"Yes; an' I told her more'n that," Rebecca continued. "I told her that jest's soon as the Panchronicle hed got rested and got its breath, we'd set off quick fer home—you an' me. Thet's so, ain't it, Phœbe?" she concluded, with plaintive anxiety in her voice.
"I'll take the letter right along," said Phœbe, with sudden determination.
But Rebecca would not at once relax her hold on the envelope.
"That's so, ain't it, dearie?" she insisted. "Won't we make fer home as soon's we can?"
"Sis," said Phœbe, gravely, "an I be not deeply in error, thou art right. Now give me the letter."
Rebecca relinquished the paper with a sigh of relief, then looked up in surprise at Phœbe, who was laughing aloud.
"Why, here's a five-cent stamp, as I live!" she cried. "Where did it come from?"
"I hed it in my satchel," said Rebecca. "Ain't that the right postage?"
"Yes—yes," said Phœbe, still laughing. "And now for the Post-Office!"
She donned her coif and high-crowned hat with silver braid, and leaned over Rebecca, who had seated herself, to give her a good-by kiss.