you're a fool to marry, anyway, Miss Goldthwaite, when the parson
thinks such a heap of you."

Carrie laughed again, more amused than ever.

"Talking of holidays, Miss Hepsy," she said, "I want you to give this
patient little maiden one, and Tom too."

"Not if I know it," answered Miss Hepsy promptly.

"Oh yes you will," said Miss Goldthwaite serenely. "We are to have a
picnic up the Peak on Monday, in Judge Keane's waggon. I've set my
heart on Lucy and Tom, and half a day is nothing."

"It makes 'em idle and restless for days, Miss Goldthwaite," said
Aunt Hepsy, with grim decision, "an' I ain't a-goin' to have it, so
let it a be."

Miss Goldthwaite held her peace a moment, and then went straight up
to Aunt Hepsy, and, to Lucy's amazement, laid her two hands on her
shoulders and looked into her face with laughing eyes. "Do you know
you are the most disagreeable woman in the township, Miss Hepsy, and
that there isn't another would be so cross with me as you are? I'll
come up and pare apples for two whole days if you'll let me have Lucy
and Tom. Look me in the face and refuse me if you dare."

Miss Hepsy actually smiled. "I never saw sech a cretur," she said.
"Ye'd move the very Peak wi' them eyes o' your'n. I'm real sorry for
Mr. George Keane, anyway. Well, have yer own way, and go off home.
You're only hinderin' my work, and I hain't a minute to lose."

"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, with a very eloquent glance of
her irresistible eyes.--"Now, Lucy," said she then, turning to the
child, "come down to the parsonage on Monday morning at eleven, you
and Tom, and we will go up to the Red House together. Good-bye, dear;
the fresh air up the Peak will brighten that white face, I hope.
Don't forget, now."

"Forget! O Miss Carrie," was all she said, but her eyes were very dim
as she returned her kiss. Lucy had been feeling peculiarly sad and
down-hearted, and Miss Goldthwaite had come and brought with her the
sunshine which seemed to follow her everywhere.

Then Carrie bade Miss Hepsy good-bye, and went away. Looking about
her as she went through the garden, she espied Tom painting waggon
wheels in the yard. A few steps took her to the boy's side, and he
looked up with a glad smile of surprise.

"Busy too, Tom," she said pleasantly. "I don't think this place
should be called Thankful Rest. Nobody seems to take a rest here. How
do you like this work?"

"Don't ask me, Miss Goldthwaite," said the lad. "You r