fine delicate lace, which had been her mother’s, relieved the sombre black dress nicely.  Miss Goldthwaite was very proud of her friends, and told them so when she greeted them.  They were just in time, and the four set off, Tom in front with Miss Goldthwaite, and Lucy walking with the minister.  She was shy and quiet, but somehow nobody could be long afraid of Mr. Goldthwaite.  He possessed his sister’s charm of manner, and drew Lucy on to talk in spite of herself.  At the Red House there was a great bustle.  The big waggon was at the front door, and the little one at the back, into which the cook was stowing all sorts of eatables.  Minnie Keane, in a state of great excitement, was flying about with a tiny kitten in each arm, the mother following at her heels mewing piteously for her children to be left in safety.  Minnie dropped the kittens when she saw the party from the parsonage coming round the avenue, and ran to meet them.  Miss Goldthwaite made the introductions, and then she and Mr. Goldthwaite passed into the house, leaving the children beside the waggon.  There was but a moment’s shyness, and then the irrepressible Minnie’s tongue began to go freely.

“You look nice, Lucy,” she said frankly.  “I guess we’ll have a good time to-day.  There always is a good time when papa takes us anywhere.”

“This is a nice horse,” said Tom, feeling he must say something.  “What’s his name?”

“Oh, that’s Billy.  He’s very old, and rather cross.  You should see papa’s Beauty.  Come to the stable and I’ll show you her.”

She drew Lucy’s arm within her own and darted off, Tom following.  Minnie was quite at home in the stable, and familiar with every animal in it.  Beauty pricked up her ears and whinnied at the touch of Minnie’s caressing fingers.

“You ask Miss Goldthwaite about Beauty,” she said.  “She thinks there isn’t another horse like her in the world.—­Don’t you love horses, Lucy?”

“Yes; I love all animals,” replied Lucy.  “I saw some nice little kittens round there.”

“Yes; I’ve three.  We’d better go round now, I think; perhaps they’ll want to be going.—­I’m glad it’s a fine day; aren’t you, Tom?”

“I think I am.  I looked out at six this morning to see if it was.  It’ll be glorious up the Peak.”

As the three came round to the front door again, Miss Keane appeared on the threshold.  She looked very tall and stately and awe-inspiring with her trailing dress and eye-glass.  Yet her smile as she shook hands with the children was so pleasant that Lucy forgot to be afraid of her.

“My mother would like to see you, Tom and Lucy,” she said.  “Will you come upstairs? she is not able to leave the room, you know.—­Minnie, I wish you would look round for papa.  It is just twelve; we should be going.”

Minnie scampered off, and Tom and Lucy followed Miss Keane up the broad staircase into the drawing-room, the beauty of which held them spellbound for a few minutes.  On a couch near the fire lay a lady, with gray hair and a pale, thin, worn face, which wore such an expression of peace and happiness that Lucy felt her heart go out to her at once.  Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite and George Keane were there also.  Mrs. Keane held out both her hands, and the two came shyly forward—­Tom blushing a little to be among so many strangers.