Tom stayed a week at home--_home_ it truly was to both Lucy and him
now, and he left it with regret. But the work he loved and had chosen
called him away, and knowing Lucy would be tenderly cared for, he
went back to Philadelphia, carrying a much lighter heart than when he
first entered it three months before. The summer would be a busy one
for him; and as the months sped he proved the truth of Mr. Keane's
words, that it was only through much hard, plodding, uninteresting
work, that he could ever hope to place his foot on the first step of
the ladder. But he had a kind hand and an encouraging word always
ready to help him on, and was happy in his apprenticeship.
Thanks to Aunt Hepsy's careful nursing, midsummer saw Lucy fully
restored to health again. She had an easy and happy time of it now.
There was no more trotting up and down, no more bending under heavy
loads--it was only very light work her hands were permitted to do;
and she would laugh and tell Aunt Hepsy she was making a fine lady of
her altogether.
"You do what you're bid, an' say nothin', my dear," was always Aunt
Hepsy's answer, with oh, what a difference in look and tone.
There was no restriction to her visiting now. She would spend days at
the Red House, in company with her friend Minnie; who, in her turn,
would come to Thankful Rest, and keep the house alive with her gay
nonsense.
So the summer sped, harvest was ingathered again, and one sunny
evening in September, Miss Goldthwaite came up to Thankful Rest on
special business. Rumours were afloat that the parsonage was soon to
lose Miss Carrie, but they had not yet been confirmed.
Miss Hepsy was in the garden, and gave the parson's sister a warm
greeting.
"Is Lucy indoors?" Carrie asked, after they had chatted a moment.
"Yes; I heard her singing a minute ago," answered Aunt Hepsy. "Jes'
go in and look for her, Miss Goldthwaite; I'll be in by-and-by."
"Perhaps I had better talk to you first, Miss Hepsy, as you have the
power to grant or refuse what I want."
"I don't often say no to ye, Miss Carrie," said Aunt Hepsy with a dry
smile.
"I know it; but this is a very serious request--in fact, I am afraid
to make it."
"Out with it. I can but say no any way."
Miss Goldthwaite leaned on her parasol, and looked at Aunt Hepsy,
smiling, and blushing slightly too.
"Perhaps you know I'm going to be married soon, Miss Hepsy?"
"I hear the folks sayin' so; but I paid no heed, guessin' ye'd come
an' tell us afore it took place. Is't to be immediately?"
"At Christmas. But I'm going home to New York in three weeks."
"To get ready," nodded Miss Hepsy. "Well?"
"Can't you guess what I want, Miss Hepsy?"
Miss Hepsy stood a moment in wondering silence, and then said very
slowly, "I guess it'll be Lucy ye want."
"Yes; I want her to go home with me, and remain till after my
marriage. Frank will bring her back when he comes. Now it's out.
Order me off the premises now, Miss Hepsy; I know you feel like it."
"This is September," said Aunt Hepsy very slowly; "October, November,
December, January--perhaps nigh half a year. Well, Miss Goldthwaite,
excuse me sayin' it, but the Lord'll need to help your husband; he'll
not be able to help hisself, that's certain. Ye'd move the Peak, as
I've said afore."
"Am I to take that as your permission, Miss Hepsy?"
"Hev ye spoke to Lucy?"
"Not yet; you had to be asked first. If you had said no, I should not
have thought of mentioning it to Lucy at all."
"If Lucy wants to go, I'm willin'; but it'll be a queer house without
her."
"Thank you, Miss Hepsy," said Carrie, and bent forward and kissed
her. "I think you will not regret it. It will soon pass, and will do
Lucy a world of good. She is growing up, you know, and wants to see
something."
"P'raps you're right," said Aunt Hepsy. "Yes, go in now, Miss
Goldthwaite; I want to think a bit."
Carrie went in, and kneeling down on the hearth beside Lucy, said
abruptly, "I am going to be married at Christmas, Lucy, and want you
for my bridesmaid. I am going home to New York in three weeks, and
your aunt says I may take you with me. Will you come?"