ash these dishes."

Aunt Hepsy surmised the tears were kept for the loneliness of her own
chamber. She was right. Only to her mother's God did Lucy Hurst pour
out all her grief, and from Him sought the help and comfort none can
give so well as He.

XII.

WEARY DAYS.

The unusual softening of heart and manner visible in Aunt Hepsy at
the time of Tom's departure disappeared before the lapse of many
days. You see, she had gone on in the old, sour, cross-grained way so
long, she felt most at home in it. She did not _feel_ unkindly
towards gentle, patient Lucy; but her manner was so ungracious, and
her words so sharp, you will not wonder that Lucy could not read
beneath the surface. She was very quiet, very sober, and very
listless; striving, too, to do her duties as well as aforetime, but
lacking physical strength. Tom's letters, frequent and full of hope
and happiness, were the chief solace of the girl's lonely life. Mr.
and Miss Goldthwaite came sometimes yet to Thankful Rest; but these
were family visits, and Lucy had few opportunities of quiet talk with
her friends. Many invitations had come from the Red House, but to
each and all Aunt Hepsy returned a peremptory refusal.

"I'm not going to have her learn to fly round for ever at folks'
houses. She has plenty to do at home, and she'll do it, you take my
word for it. Tell Judge Keane's folks I'm mighty obliged to them, but
Lucy can't come. Let that be an end of it." So she said to Miss
Goldthwaite one day; and she carried the message, slightly modified,
to Mrs. Keane. So the days and weeks slipped away, till Winter had to
hide his diminished head before the harbingers of Spring. In the
closing days of March the ice broke up on the river, and all nature
seemed to spring to life again. Green blades and tiny blossoms began
to peep above ground, and the birds sang their songs of gladness on
the budding boughs. It was a busy time at Thankful Rest, both indoors
and out. In the first week of April began that awful revolution, Miss
Hepsy Strong's spring-cleaning. It was her boast that she could
accomplish in one week what other housewives could accomplish only in
three. For every half-idle hour Lucy had enjoyed during the winter
she had to atone now; for Aunt Hepsy kept her sweeping, and scouring,
and dusting, and trotting upstairs and down, till the girl's strength
almost failed her. She did not complain, however, and Aunt Hepsy was
too much absorbed to see that her