earthquake at Thankful Rest."

"I never heard any one speak as you do, Judge Keane," said Lucy, with
a dignity which dumfoundered Tom; and she moved away and sat down by
Mrs. Goldthwaite, and began to talk to her about Carrie.

"What makes you look so sober, Tom Hurst?" queried Minnie Keane's
voice at his elbow a few minutes later.

"Shall I tell you, Minnie?"

"You must," was the calm reply.

"It seems to me, then," he said very slowly, "that Lucy is growing
up, and I don't like it. Do you?"

"I don't mind. Everybody grows up and marries, and goes to Europe,
and dies after a bit; that's about what life amounts to--not much, is
it?"

Tom laughed, he couldn't help it; but after a bit he answered
gravely, "I am afraid to grow up myself, Minnie."

"Why?"

"Because a man has so much responsibility, so much to do for God: I
don't think it will be very easy."

"Oh, I do!" answered Minnie. "Just do all you can, with all your
might; that's what mamma says, and it's the easiest way."

"So it is," said Tom. "I shan't forget that, Minnie."

And neither he did.

XVI.

FIVE YEARS AFTER.

Again it was sweet spring-time at Thankful Rest. The garden was gay
with tender leaves and blossoms, and the orchard white with bloom.
There the birds made sweet melody as of yore; and, as of yore, the
sunny river brawled and whispered and played as it hurried through
the meadow to the sea.

At five o'clock in the afternoon Aunt Hepsy was in the kitchen, busy
as usual; her hands knew no idleness. Two teacups and a plate of cake
stood on the table, the remnants of the early tea she and Lucy had
taken a little while before. Presently a light step sounded in the
lobby, and Lucy came in dressed for walking. Five years make a great
change; for she had grown from a slight, diminutive girl, to a tall,
lithe, graceful young lady, just on the verge of womanhood.

"Ye look like a picter, by all the world," said Aunt Hepsy, pausing
to admire her; and Lucy's answer was a silvery laugh, so full of
perfect happiness and content, that a silent bird on the window ledge
caught the infection and burst into song.

"I'm going to the post-office to see if there's a letter from Tom,
Aunt Hepsy," she said; "and then to Dovecot, to see Mrs. George
Keane. I'll be back sure before dark."

"Ye'd better," said Aunt Hepsy, with something of her ancient
grimness. "The house ain't worth livin' in when ye're out."

Lucy came close to Aunt Hepsy, and