Mr.
Goldthwaite would return too, he said, as it was growing late. His
sister fancied Lucy's company was an inducement to him to leave so
early, but she discreetly held her peace.
It was almost dark, though the lamp was not lit at Thankful Rest,
when Lucy reached home.
"You've kept your time," said Aunt Hepsy well pleased. "Did ye come
home alone?"
"No, Aunt Hepsy," answered Lucy very low, and the semi-darkness hid
her face. "Mr. Goldthwaite was at Dovecot, and walked home with me."
"Mrs. Keane's folks all well?" asked Aunt Hepsy, suspecting nothing.
"Yes; and O Aunt Hepsy, I have a letter from Tom: his picture in the
exhibition has sold for five hundred dollars."
Aunt Hepsy uplifted her hands in mute amazement.
"Marcy on us," she exclaimed at last. "What a power o' money for a
picter! Is't true, Lucy?"
"Yes, quite true; and he has got such praise for it," said Lucy
joyfully. "Aren't you proud of him, Aunt Hepsy?"
"I guess I am," said Aunt Hepsy. "Five hundred dollars! Dear, dear!
What will Josh say to this? Does he say anything about coming home
soon?"
"I'll read you the letter when the lamp's lighted, auntie," said
Lucy.
"Well, light it, there's a good child; it's 'most time anyway. I've
been idle a good half-hour."
But Lucy did not seem in any hurry.
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