learn to speak respectfully to your aunt. I know what your mother
was. She was my own sister, I hope."

Tom caught up his cap and fled, nothing loath; his aunt irritated
him, and made him forget himself.

"How old are you, child?" said Miss Hepsy, turning to Lucy, after a
moment's silence.

"I am fourteen past, Aunt Hepsy; Tom is twelve."

Miss Hepsy dropped her paring-knife and stared.

"Bless me, child, you don't look more'n nine, and that great boy
looks years older'n you. What have ye fed on?"

Lucy smiled faintly. "I have not been very strong this summer, Aunt
Hepsy; and I was so anxious about mamma being so poorly. I couldn't
sleep at nights, nor eat anything hardly. I suppose that's what made
me thin." Miss Hepsy sniffed.

"Have any of ye been to school?" was her next question.

"No, Aunt Hepsy. Papa taught us till he died, and then mamma kept up
our lessons as well as she could. Tom is a good scholar; and, oh,
such a beautiful painter!"

"Painter!" echoed Miss Hepsy. "What, fence rails and gates?"

Lucy looked very much shocked. "Oh no; he draws landscapes and