ometimes. I don't believe there's another
minister like Mr. Goldthwaite in the State; nor another minister's
sister either."
Lucy smiled, her heart re-echoing her brother's words.
"I have not felt so happy since mamma died," she said softly. "O Tom,
is it not true what she used to say--'That God gives us something to
be grateful for everywhere'?"
"Yes," said Tom soberly; and the next moment Aunt Hepsy's tall figure
appeared at the kitchen door, and her shrill voice broke the pleasant
Sabbath calm.
"Here, come in, you two. Air you going to stand there all night? It's
'most nine o'clock--time you were in bed. I guess you won't go
visitin' on Sunday any more."
VI.
LOSING HOLD OF THE BRIDLE.
It had rained all day, and not all that day only, but the best part
of the one before. Not a soft, gentle summer rain, but a fierce, wild
storm, which beat the poor flowers to the earth, spoiled the fruit,
and overflowed the river till half the meadow lay under water. There
was plenty of work in the barn for Uncle Josh and the men, and plenty
in the house for Aunt Hepsy and the girls. The scullery was full of
wet clothes waiting on a dry day. That of itself, not to speak of the
damage to the orchard, was sufficient to make Aunt Hepsy a very
disagreeable person to live with while the storm lasted. Her tongue
went from early morning till afternoon, scolding alternately at Lucy
and Keziah. The latter was a stolid being, on whom her mistress's
talking made no impression; but it made Lucy nervous and awkward, and
her work was very badly done indeed. At three o'clock Aunt Hepsy sent
her to wash her face, and gave her a long side of a sheet to hem. So
Lucy was sitting on the settle, with a very grave and
sorrowful-looking face, when Tom came in at four. His uncle had no
need of him just then, and had sent him to the house to be out of the
way. Keziah was feeding the calves, and Aunt Hepsy upstairs dressing,
if that word can be appropriately applied to the slight change her
toilet underwent in the afternoon. Tom sat down at the table in the
window, and leaning his arms upon it, looked out gloomily on the
desolate garden, over which the chill, wet mist hung like a pall.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
"How do you get on now, Lucy?" asked Tom at length. "How sober you
look. Has she been worrying you?"
"I daresay I am very stupid," said Lucy low and quietly; "but when
Aunt Hepsy talks so loud I don't know what I am doi
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