ppiness and content.

"You don't eat, Lucy, my pet," said Aunt Hepsy anxiously.

"I can't, auntie; I am so happy, it's no use;" and Lucy covered her
face with her hands and fairly sobbed.

Then Tom rose to his feet, and gave vent to a cheer which would have
done honour to an Englishman.

"Bless me, boy, ye'll bring the house down," said Aunt Hepsy, but not
looking at all displeased.

"Can't help it, Aunt Hepsy; it's surplus steam; must let it off, or I
can't answer for the consequences." And he cheered again and again,
till Keziah ran to see what was the matter. She went back to the
kitchen saying to herself, "When I see an' hear that here, I feel
like believin', Deacon Frost, that the world's comin' to an end."

Not the world exactly, Keziah, only the old, hard, miserable days
have come to an end for ever, and a new era has begun at Thankful
Rest.

XV.

THE WEDDING.

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