“I am glad to see you, my dears,” she said very heartily.—­“Kiss me, Lucy.  I knew your mother, dear.  You remind me of her very much.”

The ready tears sprang to Lucy’s eyes.  Kindness always moved her thus, and she took a stool close to the couch, while Tom’s eyes wandered round the room, lingering hungrily on the exquisite water-colours on the walls.  It was long since he had had such an opportunity.  At Thankful Rest the art collection consisted of a few family portraits, ludicrous alike in execution and in colouring.  A smile and a glance passed from Mr. Goldthwaite to his sister as they noted how speedily the boy became absorbed.

“These are my brother Robert’s drawings,” said Miss Keane, touching his arm and beckoning him to come nearer.  “You are fond of painting, I think?”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered Tom, his face flushing a little.  “And these are so beautiful, I could not help looking at them.”

“If you will come up to the Red House some other day, I shall show you all my brother’s sketch-books and odd drawings,” said Miss Keane.  “I am very fond of the work myself, and might perhaps be able to help you a little, you know, and I think you would make a clever pupil; what do you say?”

The eyes behind the glasses beamed so kindly at him that Tom forgot that his first impression of her had been unpleasant, and a warm flush of gratitude answered her better than his words.  They were few and sad enough.

“There is nothing I should like so much in the world, ma’am, and I thank you very much; but I can’t come—­my uncle and aunt would not let me.”

“I must see about that,” said Miss Keane promptly; and at that moment Judge Keane’s stately figure appeared in the doorway.

“Are you going to sit there all day, you young folk?” he called out hastily.—­“Oh, here you are, little ones;—­glad to see you, my lad;” and he gave Tom’s hand a warm grasp, and touched Lucy’s white face with his forefinger.

“Want some roses there, doesn’t she, wife?” he said.  “There’ll be a glorious air up the Peak to-day, it will bring them there, if anything will.”

“I wish you could have come, dear Mrs. Keane,” whispered Carrie as she bent a moment over the couch before they passed out; “you used to be the very sunshine of us all.”

“I think of you, dear, and am happy in my own way at home,” she replied with her sweet smile; “take care of yourself and of this pale little maiden.—­Lucy dear, good-bye.  Come and see me again.”

“Indeed I will, if I can, ma’am,” replied Lucy earnestly; and then they all went away.  Minnie was already in the big waggon waiting impatiently for the start.

“You will go inside too, little one, I suppose,” said the judge to Lucy; and with one swing of his strong arms he placed her beside Minnie.  “The rest of us will walk a piece, I fancy.  As this is supposed to be a climbing expedition, we must make some show, at least, to begin with.”