noon rest and the whistle at the hub factory blew a shrill blast. Rebecca hastened on her way. She fancied she could smell the good corn pone that Aunt Testy would have ready for her, split open and dripping with fresh, sweet butter. Dr. Price's prescription had brought health to the little waif, and with health had come the appetite of a field hand. Rebecca liked to arrive at the back porch a little before her Uncle Spot. She always hoped he would notice her as he passed her on the steps. He never did, but she took a certain satisfaction in his nearness as he went up, two at a time, and crossed the porch to the tin basin that was always on the bench by the wall, right under the shelf where stood the brass-rimmed cedar water bucket, with its gourd dipper. He always did exactly the same thing every day. He dipped out three dippers full of water, and then, stooping his great height to the low bench, he washed his hands and face, using the strong turpentine soap that was in a broken saucer by the basin.
Rebecca loved to look at his broad back as he leaned to the bench. She liked to see the way he spread his legs as he stooped—such strong, finely shaped legs! She wished she could draw, or model in clay, so she could in some way
