Catoctin clarion., 1923-03-15
REBECCA
BY Orietta Milo
(Nom de plume)

"Rebecca - Re-bec-ca," sounded
grufiy up the old colonial staircase.
Rebecca heard, jumped out of bed,
donned a red home-spun, and was
down stairs very shortly after her
father had stamped noisily through
the lower hall of his kind neighbor's
home to announce the coming of dawn.
He. met her as she came into the
skitcheh.1 No sweet "how-de-dos" We're
slavished, neither loving glances, but,
"Ready t go over t the place-reckon
we'll start the chimney today"
Yes daddy. I'll go over and get the
clay ready right now and then when
you'll come I'll be ready to mix the
mortar"
"No, no lassie. You come eat your
breakfast first. You'll be a needin'
some afore you git back. I'm goin'
on over t. the river to see about get
tin a barge so whin you git thar jist
mix the mortar-no, I guess you bet
ter wait for me-you just get every
thin ready to mix it on that good
stretch of hard ground thar whar
them pine knots is burnin'-dont fool
yer time now."
"All right, daddy" she told him be-
tween the hurried bites of corn pone
,oJ rooct x,opicon
Very soon she had finished the
breakfast prepared by the skilled hand
of old Chloe and was running barefoot
down the trail to the house that was
soon to be hen. home.
"Lassie-that you?"
eyes daddy"
"Come over here wunst and I'll
show yer how t. 60 about this"
Rebecca obeyed her father and af-
ter mixing and mixing the mortar
started to build the chimney. AS she
stood there smearing the mortar and
laying the stones it would have pleas
ed any artist to paint her on canvas.
She was barefooted, her raven hair
hung in lose braids down her back, a
bright red home-spun clothed her per-
feet figure, and two big black eyes
that looked like deep pools in a dark
forest, were shining as she worked.
Not so fast thar lassie; haste makes
waste. you know and you shore is
wastin' that are mortar"
"But daddy"
"Not that now, no excuse, just take
little more time. Y know this amt
to be somethin' fer US to live in fer a
year or more, but fer all the rest O.
our lives"
Day after day of the hardest kind
of work followed. The furnishings,
crude, but we'll made, had been fin
ished and Rebecca had been living
with her father in their rude little
cabin for almost five years. Many
washings had been. done in the cold of
the winter waters. Many bakings
had come out of the little dutch ovens
and many, many Indians had warred
and lost, powowed and scalped the
newcomers but time had not taken
away Rebecca's loveIness.
"Lassie, watts tn idear O. putin
ON the extree plate?" Rebecca's father
asked of her one morning.
"Mrs. Thompson's coming over"
"Aw, yes" after which he added
"Ill tell you lassie you can't be toe
good to her. She takes t. you just
as if you wuz her own gal"
eyes, think too that she seems to
like me very much. Did I tell you
what she said last Sunday. No
don't believe I did. She said that
she's saving back set of willow dish.
es to give me when get married
Hal Hal When I get married. I guess
she'll save them quite while for
never even thought of such a thing
until she said that" she told him
quite truthfully.
"Wal, that might be true, but, you'll
think agin when the right lad comes
Htin' along.
"Father," she often called him this
and especially when overcome by hen
love for him. If / ever should, yor
wouldn't leave me, would you?"
"No," after which long silence en-
sued, then,
"Well, I must go and wash the lin
en- for If I wait any longer it won't
dry today.
Then after kissing her father good.
by, for they were the very closest OF
friends, Rebecca gathered up her linen
and journeyed down to the river three
miles away.
Splashl splash! splashl rang thro
the forest still dark, yet still green fol
the summer was just in it's prime.
"T wonder -"
,"Good morning, Miss Huntp