Thankful Rest | Page 6

aunt irritated him,
and made him forget himself.
"How old are you, child?" said Miss Hepsy, turning to Lucy, after a
moment's silence.
"I am fourteen past, Aunt Hepsy; Tom is twelve."
Miss Hepsy dropped her paring-knife and stared.
"Bless me, child, you don't look more'n nine, and that great boy looks
years older'n you. What have ye fed on?"
Lucy smiled faintly. "I have not been very strong this summer, Aunt
Hepsy; and I was so anxious about mamma being so poorly. I couldn't
sleep at nights, nor eat anything hardly. I suppose that's what made me
thin." Miss Hepsy sniffed.
"Have any of ye been to school?" was her next question.

"No, Aunt Hepsy. Papa taught us till he died, and then mamma kept up
our lessons as well as she could. Tom is a good scholar; and, oh, such a
beautiful painter!"
"Painter!" echoed Miss Hepsy. "What, fence rails and gates?"
Lucy looked very much shocked. "Oh no; he draws landscapes and
things, and went to the Art School as long as mamma could afford it.
Then he practised at home. He means to be a great painter some day,
like the ones he read about."
"Humph!" said Miss Hepsy contemptuously. "I guess his uncle'll find
him work in painting the farm an' the gates afresh this fall. It'll save a
man. Now then, there's them taters on. Come upstairs an' I'll show you
your room."
Lucy rose at once, and obediently followed her aunt along the wide
flagged passage and up the polished oak steps to a tiny little chamber in
the attic fiat. It was poorly furnished, but it was scrupulously clean; and
from the window Lucy's delighted eyes caught a glimpse of the broad
green meadow, the shining water of the river, and beyond, the houses
of the town nestling in the shadow of the giant slopes of Pendle Peak.
"Your brother's room is on t'other side o' the landing," explained Miss
Hepsy; "an' I'll 'spect you to keep 'em both as clean's a new pin. I'm
mighty partickler, mind, an' can't abide untidiness. An' if yer mother's
brought ye up to think yersel' a lady, the sooner ye get rid of that notion
the better, 'cos yell have to work here; we don't keep no idle hands. Get
off your hat an' cape now, an' come down as fast's ye like, an' help set
the table for dinner."
Miss Hepsy then whisked out of the room, and clattered down the stairs
in haste.
Lucy moved to the window recess, and stood looking upon the peace
and beauty without, until her eyes were brimming with tears. Then she
knelt down by the side of the bed, sobbing pitifully, "Mamma, mamma!
come back, O dear mamma! we have nobody on earth but you!"

IV.
THE NEW HOME.
Meanwhile Tom had gone on an exploring expedition. He investigated
every outhouse and shed, frightened the geese and turkeys into fits by
rushing through their paddock shouting at the pitch of his voice, caught

the superannuated mule by the tail, and made her fly off like a
four-year old, made friends with the savage watch-dog on the chain,
coaxed the pigeons to fly to him, and finally went off to the fields in
search of his uncle. On the road outside the farmyard gate he met a
team, driven by a big uncouth-looking man, dressed in coarse trowsers,
a red shirt, and a battered straw hat.
"You'll be one of the men, I guess," said Tom, stopping in front of him.
"Can you tell me where my Uncle Joshua is?"
The man grinned. "Air you Hetty's boy, youngster?"
"I'm Mrs. Hurst's son," corrected Tom proudly. "Who are you?"
"If I'm not yer Uncle Josh, I reckon he ain't be home terday," returned
the man.--"Hi! up, Sally; you and me's not fit company, I guess, for a
city gent."
"If you are Uncle Joshua, I beg your pardon I'm sure," said Tom with
his usual frankness. "Won't you shake hands, Uncle Joshua?"
Uncle Joshua took the thin, delicate hand in his own brown palm, and
looked at it curiously.
"Jes' as Hepsy said--Hetty's boy's more for ornament than use. Well,
youngster, now you're here ye'll work for yer bread, I hope. We're poor
folks here, an' can't keep idle hands. Ye'll hev to learn to mind a team
like this."
"I wouldn't mind if I'd a better horse, Uncle Josh," said Tom, walking
alongside of his uncle, and eying the hungry-looking steed critically.
"See his ribs. Don't you feed him ever, Uncle Josh?"
The man's face flushed angrily. "Shut up, younker!" he said savagely.
"Don't speak about things ye know nothing about."
Tom walked on a minute or two in silence, but in no way disconcerted.
"This is a very