Hepsy?" she said. "You don't know how
well I feel. I could almost get up, I think."

Aunt Hepsy laughed a little tremulous laugh.

"In about a month or so, I guess, you'll begin to think about getting
up," she said; and again something in Aunt Hepsy's face set Lucy
wondering _what_ was different about her. There was a short silence,
then Aunt Hepsy laid down her knitting, and took both Lucy's thin
hands in her firm clasp. "Lucy, do you think ye can ever forgive yer
old aunt?" she said suddenly and quickly. "I've been a cross,
hardhearted old fool, an' the Lord's been better to me than I dared
to hope for. He's heard my prayers, Lucy, an' he knows how hard I
mean to try and make up for the past. If ye'll say ye forgive me, and
try to care a little for me, ye'll maybe find Thankful Rest a
pleasanter place than ye think it now."

"O Aunt Hepsy, don't say any more," pleaded Lucy, her eyes growing
dim. "I'm so glad I've been sick, because you've learned to love me a
little."

So the barrier was broken down, and in the ensuing days these two
became very dear to each other; and Lucy grew to understand Aunt
Hepsy, and to see how much good there lay beneath her grim exterior.
The door of Aunt Hepsy's heart had long been locked, and like other
unused things, had grown rusty on its hinges. But Lucy had found the
key, and entered triumphantly at last.

XIV.

A GREAT CHANGE.

You will be wondering what Tom had been about during his sister's
illness; but he was still in ignorance of it, his friends thinking it
best to wait till the crisis was past. It fell to Aunt Hepsy's lot to
send the news, and her letter was such a curiosity in its way that I
cannot do better than set it down just as it was.

"THANKFUL REST, _April 18th, 18--_.

"MY DEAR NEPHEW,--I daresay you'll wonder to hear from me, an' will
maybe feel skeered; so, to relieve you, I may as well say at once
that Lucy's been sick, very sick, but she's getting round nicely now,
thank the Lord. She is in bed yet, and I'm writing this beside her.
She sends her love, and says she'll write to-morrow. I guess I'll let
her do it in about a month. I want to ask you to forgive me for being
so hard on you when you lived here. I hope you don't bear your old
aunt any grudge. Lucy, God bless her, won't hear me abuse myself, so
it's a relief to do it to you, though you are a boy. I keep that
picter you drew of me that I slapped you for, an' I'