Thankful Rest | Page 5

train puffed into the
depot. From the window of a first-class compartment two faces looked
out eagerly, but failed to recognize in Miss Hepsy the sister of the dear
dead mother they had so lately lost. Miss Hepsy saw Mr, Goldthwaite
step out first, followed by a tall, handsome-looking boy, well dressed
and refined-looking, who in his turn assisted with care and tenderness a
slight, delicate-looking girl, who bore such a strong resemblance to her
dead mother that her aunt had no difficulty in recognizing her. She
stamped forward, nodded to Mr. Goldthwaite, and held out a hand in
turn to each of the children.
"I'm tired to death waitin' on these pesky cars," she said, addressing
herself to Mr. Goldthwaite. "I hope they've behaved themselves, sir, an'
not bothered ye.--Bless me, children, don't stare at me so; I'm your
Aunt Hepzibah. You look as if you had never seen a woman afore."
"There is a trunk, Miss Hepsy," said Mr. Goldthwaite, unable to help an

amused smile playing about his mouth. "You will need to send a cart
for it.--They have been very good children indeed, and instead of
bothering, have greatly helped to make my journey enjoyable."
"I'm glad to hear it, I'm sure," said Miss Hepsy, looking very much as if
she was not glad at all. "Well, I guess we'd better be movin'.--What's
your name, boy?" she said, turning to the lad with an abruptness which
made him start.
"My name is Tom, aunt," he answered promptly; "this is Lucy." "Miss
Hetty might have called one of ye after her own kin.--Well, good-day,
Mr. Goldthwaite; I guess Josh'll walk down to the parsonage at night
an' pay up.--Come along."
"Good-bye, Tom, good-bye, Lucy, in the meantime," said the minister
kindly. "We shall see each other often, I fancy."
"Oh, sir, I hope so," said Lucy, speaking for the first time. "You have
been so kind to us when we had nobody else." Her dark eyes suddenly
overflowed, and she turned away to follow her aunt, while Tom,
whistling to vent some strong feeling, went on in front.
Miss Hepsy walked as if for a wager, and never opened her mouth once,
until they stood upon the threshold of Thankful Rest.
"Now, look here; this is yer home," she said; then, fixing grim eyes
alternately on their faces, "an' I hope ye'll behave, an' show yer
gratitude for it. That's all.--I bet Keziah's burned the soup;" with which
words Miss Hepsy burst into the kitchen, ready to extinguish the
unfortunate "help" if everything was not up to the mark. The brother
and sister lingered a moment on the threshold, feeling new and strange
and sad, their welcome had been so disappointing.
"Lucy," said Tom Hurst suddenly, "do you believe that woman's
mamma's sister? I don't."
"Of course she is," returned Lucy. "And you must not call her 'that
woman,' Tom; she is our aunt, mamma's sister, you know, and we must
behave, she says."
Tom made a wry face. "I don't feel like behaving any," he said. "But I
say, Lucy, isn't this a prime place?"
Lucy's eyes beamed as they looked round the pretty, peaceful
homestead, with its laden orchard, wealth of flowers and glorious
summer beauty. But she did not answer.
"We'd better go in, I suppose, though we weren't asked," said Tom. "I

wonder if it's near dinner-time; I'm famished."
He pushed open the door, and, followed by Lucy, entered the
wide-bricked kitchen. A sudden change had taken place in Aunt
Hepsy's appearance. In the twinkling of an eye she had donned her
working garb again, and was paring potatoes at the table. Fortunately,
the dinner had progressed satisfactorily during her absence.
"Come in and sit down," she said, pointing to the settle at the fire.
"Ye'll be hungry, I reckon; but it'll soon be dinner-time. I don't approve
of eating 'tween meals.--I guess you never did any of this kind o' work,
Lucy?"
"No, Aunt Hepsy," returned Lucy timidly. "I've seen Hannah do it; that
was our girl."
"Humph; ye won't be long here before ye can pare potatoes as well as
Hannah. You'll be willin' to learn, I hope?"
"I shall do my best, Aunt Hepsy," returned the girl meekly.
"Mamma never pared potatoes, Aunt Hepsy," said Tom boldly.
"No; I know she didn't, boy," said Miss Hepsy severely. "Your mother
was as useless as a bit o' Sunday china.--I hope you won't be like her,
Lucy."
"I hope she will, Aunt Hepsy," spoke up Tom again. "Mamma was
perfectly splendid, everybody said."
"You'd better go outside, boy," said Miss Hepsy wrathfully, "till you
learn to speak respectfully to your aunt. I know what your mother was.
She was my own sister, I hope."
Tom caught up his cap and fled, nothing loath; his