XII.

Weary days.

The unusual softening of heart and manner visible in Aunt Hepsy at the time of Tom’s departure disappeared before the lapse of many days.  You see, she had gone on in the old, sour, cross-grained way so long, she felt most at home in it.  She did not feel unkindly towards gentle, patient Lucy; but her manner was so ungracious, and her words so sharp, you will not wonder that Lucy could not read beneath the surface.  She was very quiet, very sober, and very listless; striving, too, to do her duties as well as aforetime, but lacking physical strength.  Tom’s letters, frequent and full of hope and happiness, were the chief solace of the girl’s lonely life.  Mr. and Miss Goldthwaite came sometimes yet to Thankful Rest; but these were family visits, and Lucy had few opportunities of quiet talk with her friends.  Many invitations had come from the Red House, but to each and all Aunt Hepsy returned a peremptory refusal.

“I’m not going to have her learn to fly round for ever at folks’ houses.  She has plenty to do at home, and she’ll do it, you take my word for it.  Tell Judge Keane’s folks I’m mighty obliged to them, but Lucy can’t come.  Let that be an end of it.”  So she said to Miss Goldthwaite one day; and she carried the message, slightly modified, to Mrs. Keane.  So the days and weeks slipped away, till Winter had to hide his diminished head before the harbingers of Spring.  In the closing days of March the ice broke up on the river, and all nature seemed to spring to life again.  Green blades and tiny blossoms began to peep above ground, and the birds sang their songs of gladness on the budding boughs.  It was a busy time at Thankful Rest, both indoors and out.  In the first week of April began that awful revolution, Miss Hepsy Strong’s spring-cleaning.  It was her boast that she could accomplish in one week what other housewives could accomplish only in three.  For every half-idle hour Lucy had enjoyed during the winter she had to atone now; for Aunt Hepsy kept her sweeping, and scouring, and dusting, and trotting upstairs and down, till the girl’s strength almost failed her.  She did not complain, however, and Aunt Hepsy was too much absorbed to see that her powers were overtaxed.  The cleaning was triumphantly concluded on Saturday night, and Lucy crept away early to bed, but was unable to sleep from fatigue.  She came downstairs next morning so wan and white that Aunt Hepsy feared she was going to turn sick on her hands.  But Lucy said she was well enough, and would go to church as usual.  Thinking she looked really ill, Miss Goldthwaite came round to the porch after the service.

“Lucy, what is it, child? your face is quite white.  Do you feel well enough?”

Lucy smiled a little, and slipping her hand through Miss Goldthwaite’s arm, walked with her down the path.

“This has been cleaning week,” she said in explanation, “and I have had more to do than usual.  I daresay I’ll be all right now.”