Saturday was the busiest day in the week at Thankful Rest.  There was churning to be done, extra cooking for Sunday, mending and darning, and the weekly polishing of every bit of brass, and copper, and tin in the establishment.  Lucy rubbed at them till her arms ached, without bringing them to the required height of brightness, and was at last sent off to pick the few remaining gooseberries for a tart.  That was a piece of work much more to her liking, and she lingered so long out in the sunshine that Aunt Hepsy came at last, and scolded her long and shrilly; which took all the enjoyment away.  Tom received his lessons from Uncle Josh outside; and, judging from his face when he came in at dinner-time, he had not found them particularly agreeable.  Tom Hurst was a dainty youth, in fact, and shrank from soiling his fingers with the tasks allotted to him:  and seeing that grim Uncle Josh had not spared him, the forenoon had been one long battle; for, try as he might, Tom could not keep a bridle on his tongue.

“I guess I’ll hev a pesky deal o’ trouble with that young ’un, Hepsy,” his uncle said that night when the children had gone to bed.  “He doesn’t take to farm work; an’ he’s that peart I durstn’t speak to him.  Queer thing if we’ve got to keep the young upstart in idleness.”

“Idleness!” quoth Miss Hepsy wrathfully.  “I’d take a rope’s end to him if he didn’t keep a civil tongue in his head.  The gal’s bad enough; though she never speaks back she looks at me that proud-like wi’ them great eyes o’ her’n, I feel as if I’d like to shake her.  There’ll never be a day’s peace now they’ve come.”

“Tell ye what, though, Hepsy,” said Josh.  “I’m gwine to pay off Brahm, an’ make Tom do his work.  He ain’t that much younger, an’ he looks strong enough!  Couldn’t you do without Keziah, and that would square expenses?”

“I’ll see how the child turns out in a week or so.  She’s a pinin’ thing—­doesn’t eat enough to keep a mouse alive.”

“It’s a thankless thing, any way ye like to take it, Hepsy, hevin’ other folks’ youngsters round.  I don’t see why we should be bothered with ’em;” with which remark Josh went to bed.

Lucy awoke next morning, remembering it was Sunday, with a feeling of gladness that they might perhaps chance to see their friend Mr. Goldthwaite at church.  The Strongs were regular as clock-work in their half-day attendance at the meeting-house.  The morn’ng was devoted to feeding cattle, pigs, and poultry, and tidying up the house; and after dinner the premises were left in charge of Brahm and Keziah, and the master and mistress turned their footsteps towards Pendlepoint.  The meeting-house was almost close to the parsonage, and was a pretty, primitive structure, with no attempt at display or decoration, and yet so pleasant and homelike inside that Lucy felt a sense of rest as her eyes wandered round it.  Tom nudged her and whispered, “Nice little chapel, Lucy;” at which Miss Hepsy held up a warning finger and shook