s
had come--dark, gloomy frocks, lately, alas! And these, too, had now
come a second time. Let creditors be ever so unsatisfied, new raiment
will always be found for mourning families. Everything about Lucy was
nearly new. The need of repairing would come upon her by degrees, but
it had not come as yet. Therefore there had seemed, to the anxious
aunt, to be a necessity for some such question as the above.

"I'll do anything you like, aunt," said Lucy.

"It is not for me, my dear. I get through a deal of work, and am
obliged to do so." She was, at this time, sitting with a sheet in her
lap, which she was turning. Lucy had, indeed, once offered to assist,
but her assistance had been rejected. This had been two days since,
and she had not renewed the proposal as she should have done. This
had been mainly from bashfulness. Though the work would certainly be
distasteful to her, she would do it. But she had not liked to seem to
interfere, not having as yet fallen into ways of intimacy with her
aunt. "I don't want to burden you with my task-work," continued Mrs.
Dosett, "but I am afraid you seem to be listless."

"I was reading till just before you spoke," said Lucy, again turning
her eyes to the little volume of poetry, which was one of the few
treasures which she had brought away with her from her old home.

"Reading is very well, but I do not like it as an excuse, Lucy."
Lucy's anger boiled within her when she was told of an excuse, and
she declared to herself that she could never like her aunt. "I am
quite sure that for young girls, as well as for old women, there
must be a great deal of waste time unless there be needle and thread
always about. And I know, too, unless ladies are well off, they
cannot afford to waste time any more than gentlemen."

In the whole course of her life nothing so much like scolding as
this had ever been addressed to her. So at least thought Lucy at
that moment. Mrs. Dosett had intended the remarks all in good part,
thinking them to be simply fitting from an aunt to a niece. It was
her duty to give advice, and for the giving of such advice some day
must be taken as the beginning. She had purposely allowed a week to
run by, and now she had spoken her word,--as she thought in good
season.

To Lucy it was a new and most bitter experience. Though she was
reading the "Idylls of the King," or pretending to read them, she
was, in truth, thinking of all that had gone from her. Her mind had,
at th