d by the house
if he'd cared for me."

Lucas heard the reproach where he stood out of sight in the little
entry that led to Armida's room, listening to the brother and sister
as they talked together within. He often lingered there, wishing to
enter, but not daring to; longing to atone for the unhappiness he had
caused his sister, but not knowing how to set about it. Now, taking
Theodore into his confidence, he set to work to obliterate all outward
signs that made it "the divided house," leaving to his brother the
task of keeping it from Armida. As she querulously inquired what all
the hammering and pounding that was going on in front of the house
meant, Theodore had a story ready about the steps to the front porch
being so worn out that Lucas had to have some new ones, "or else break
his legs goin' over them." The smell of paint was accounted for by
Lucas "havin' one of his spells of gittin' his side painted over
agin;" on which Armida gave way to tears, until her brother comforted
her by saying it didn't make much difference, a new coat couldn't make
it any whiter than it was.

It was a great day when Armida was pronounced well enough to eat
breakfast in the kitchen. Hobbling out with the aid of Theodore's arm,
she stepped on the threshold, and looked over to where Lucas stood
by his window. He greeted her with, "How are ye, Armidy?" but did not
leave his place.

"It seems good to git out of my bedroom," said Armida; then stopped,
gazed about her, and sank into a convenient chair, exclaiming, "What
does it mean?"

For both her and Lucas's old stoves were gone, and a new one stood
directly before the middle of the chimney, with its pipe running into
the old pipe-hole that they used before the house was divided. The
coffee-pot steamed and bubbled over the fire, and a platter of ham and
eggs stood on the hearth, while the table, set for breakfast, stood
exactly in the centre of the room; the dividing line had been wiped
out by the paint-brush, and Lucas's side shone with yellow paint like
her own.

"What does it mean?" she cried, trembling and clutching at Theodore's
arm. Theodore said nothing, but slipped out of the room, and Lucas,
after an awkward pause, said: "Armidy, I wanted, if you was willin',
that we should quit doin' as we have done and have things together as
we used to. Seems as if it would be pleasanter, and if you can forgive
what I've done, I'll try to make it up to ye."

"Why, Lucas!" was all she