it is to be hoped you will turn over a new leaf in your
treatment of her. I am a plain man, Miss Strong, not given to gilding
a bitter pill. If your niece dies, you may take home the blame to
yourself. Good morning."

"I know all that, my good man, better than you can tell me," said
Aunt Hepsy grimly. "You do your best to bring her round, an' I won't
forget it. I've been a wicked woman, Dr. Gair, an' I s'pose the
Lord's goin' to punish me now; an' he couldn't have chosen a surer
way than by sending sickness to Lucy. Good morning."

Aunt Hepsy shut the door, and went into the kitchen. There Joshua sat
anxiously awaiting the doctor's verdict.

"There ain't much hope, Josh," she said briefly.

"Ain't there, Hepsy? It's a bad job for the little 'un."

"An' for more than her, I reckon," returned his sister shortly. "I've
lived one and forty years at Thankful Rest, Josh, an' I never felt as
I do this day. I'd a mighty deal rather be sick myself than see the
child's white face. If she gets round, I'll be a better woman, with
the Lord's help. How He's borne with me so long's a marvel I can't
comprehend. One and forty years, Josh Strong, and Lucy jes' fifteen.
She's done a deal more good in one day o' her life than you or me
ever did in all ours. The Lord forgive us, Josh, an' help us to make
a better use o' what's left. Jes' step down to Pendlepoint, will ye,
an' ask the parson an' his sister up. I guess Lucy'd be pleased to
see 'em. One an' forty years, dear, dear; an' Lucy jes' fifteen."

Aunt Hepsy went out wiping her eyes, and stole upstairs again to
Lucy.

XIII.

LUCY FINDS THE KEY.

For several days a great shadow lay on Thankful Rest while Lucy
hovered between life and death. Everything human care and skill could
suggest was done, and the issue was in God's hands. Miss Goldthwaite
had come up to Thankful Rest on Sunday, and had stayed, because Lucy
seemed to be happier when she was by. Callers were innumerable, and a
messenger came from the Red House every morning asking a bulletin.
What Aunt Hepsy suffered during those days I do not suppose anybody
ever guessed. It was her way to hide her feelings always, but she
would sit or stand looking at the sick girl with eyes which ought to
have brought her back to health. Uncle Josh was in and out fifty
times a day, and things outside were allowed to manage themselves;
all interest centred in the little attic chamber and its suffering
occupant. She lay in a kind