Jacob Moody of Riverboro was tall, gaunt and swarthy, black-bearded -- his masses of grizzled, uncombed hair and the red scar across his nose and cheek adding to his sinister appearance. His tumble-down house stood on a rocky bit of land back of the Sawyer pasture, and the acres of his farm stretched out on all sides of it. He lived alone, ate alone, plowed, planted, sowed, harvested alone, and was more than willing to die alone, "unwept, unhonored, and unsung." So who would ever think to visit him, and urge him to attend church? But a new Home Mission society has been set up by the girls, which has elected as its first president that "will-o'-the-wispish little person," Rebecca! And when she sets her mind to a task . . .