"When will she be home?"
"Oh, I guess she'll be along pretty soon."
Rebecca was uneasy, but she tried to conceal it, for she knew of no good reason for uneasiness. What was there to occasion alarm in the fact of one young girl staying overnight with another? She could not eat much breakfast. Afterward she went out on the little piazza, although her hostess strove furtively to stop her.
"Why don't you go out back of the house? It's real pretty—a view over the river," she said.
"I guess I'll go out here," replied Rebecca. She had a purpose: to watch for the absent girl.
Presently Rebecca came hustling into the house through the sitting-room, into the kitchen where Mrs. Dent was cooking.
"That rose-bush!" she gasped.
Mrs. Dent turned and faced her.
"What of it?"
"It's a-blowing."