"Why, it's miles!" protested Lucy in dismay. "I can't send your brother
way down there. He's been doing nothing but errands all day."

"I know it," Jane replied. "He's been to town twice already. He came home
this noon with a load of grain an' then changed horses an' went right back
to the village again 'cause he forgot something. Likely you noticed him
drivin' past."

The girl colored before Jane's friendly glance. She longed to tell the
whole truth, for by nature she was a person of great frankness. Since,
however, Martin had not seen fit to enlighten his sisters, perhaps it was
wiser that she should not do so. He may have had his own reasons for
keeping them in ignorance.

"Lucy!"

"Yes, I'm coming, Aunt Ellen."

"Do go along," implored Jane; "she may suspect something. I'll leave the
house all picked up, tidy as a pin. You won't forget to wave to Martin if
you want him."

"No. Thank you a thousand times, Ja--Miss Howe."

"Jane'll do," smiled the woman kindly. "I'm more used to it."

Catching her visitor's hand in a quick grasp, Lucy pressed it warmly and
then sped up the stairs.

"Whatever have you been putterin' about so long?" queried Ellen
petulantly.

"I was clearing up."

"That's good. I guess the place needed it," sighed her aunt. "I warn't
half through straightenin' things in the kitchen. I thought I heard you
talkin'."

"Heard me?"

"Probably 'twas a notion. My head kinder buzzes." Then she suddenly turned
suspiciously on the girl, adding sharply:

"You ain't been over to the Howes'?"

"No."

"That's right. An' don't you go, neither. We don't need no help from
them."

A pause followed.

"Did you want me for something?" Lucy at last inquired, after waiting for
her aunt to speak.

"Yes, I did."

Nevertheless Ellen made no further remark for some time. Finally she burst
out fretfully:

"I'm almighty afraid I'll have to hire in somebody, after all."

The last two words were peculiarly illuminating.

"You mean somebody to help?"

"Yes," grumbled the older woman with peevish shrillness. "We've got a pull
ahead of us; I know that well enough. An' I s'pose you ain't got enough
muscle to lift me. Likely you couldn't even raise me up on the pillows if
you was to try. How you ever got me upstairs beats all."

Lucy hastily turned her head aside.

"They do say, though," continued Ellen, "that sometimes when folks are
scat to death they can do things they can't do any other time. Y