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Updated: June 22, 2025
Jean listened to the faint creaking of old boards which told her that he was approaching Hepsy's room, and she wondered if Hepsy would hear him. Hepsy did hear him. There was a squeak of the old bedstead that told how a hundred and seventy-two pounds of indignant womanhood was rising to do battle. "Who's that? Git outa here, or I'll smash you!"
But she was intent upon the picture, with its bold, true outlines. "This isn't bad," was her sage critcism. "Didn't you wear a hat, or something?" he asked, looking around and up into the tree. "No yes I wore this," and pulling from her pocket a large blue square of cotton, she tied it under her chin with the utmost naivete. "It's Aunt Hepsy's," she explained. "There, do you hear that bell?
The longing to go home to Lucy for a day or two had well-nigh overcome him since Aunt Hepsy's letter came; but he had tried to stifle it, and had applied himself with double energy to his studies. "If you don't wish to go, of course I have no more to say," began Mr. Keane; but Tom interrupted him "O sir, you don't mean me to go home for good and all, I hope; have I disappointed you?
The third night after Hepsy's arrival, Jean awoke to hear a man's furtive footsteps in her father's room. This was the fifth time that the prowler had come in the night, and custom had dulled her fear a little. She had not reached the point yet of getting up to see who it was and what he wanted.
Josh, find summat for the boy to do; 'tain't no use hevin' him 'round idle lookin' for mischief." "Come along to the barn then, What's-yer-name," said Uncle Josh, picking up his hat and sauntering to the door. "Don't be too hard on that little 'un, Hepsy; she don't look over strong." "Mind yer own business, will ye, Josh Strong," was Miss Hepsy's smart rejoinder. "I guess I'm able to mind mine."
I used to know an old woman Aunt Hepsibah Tucker, her name was she's dead now. The pride of Aunt Hepsy's heart was that she took nineteen bottles of 'Balm of Burdock Tea' and the tea folks printed her picture as a testimonial that she lived through it. Ho, ho! And society big-bugs appear to have the same cravin'." "Some of them do.
She had an easy and happy time of it now. There was no more trotting up and down, no more bending under heavy loads it was only very light work her hands were permitted to do; and she would laugh and tell Aunt Hepsy she was making a fine lady of her altogether. "You do what you're bid, an' say nothin', my dear," was always Aunt Hepsy's answer, with oh, what a difference in look and tone.
Lucy passed into the wash-house with her pails, and Miss Goldthwaite went into the house without knocking. Miss Hepsy was making buckwheats, and greeted her visitor pleasantly enough. She sat down in the window, turned her eyes on Miss Hepsy's face, and said bluntly, "I'm going to say something which will likely vex you, Miss Hepsy, but I can't help it. I've been wanting to say it this long time."
A smile actually appeared on Miss Hepsy's face. "He's a real pleasant-spoken gentleman, Mr. Robert Keane," said Aunt Hepsy, as she shut the door. "Well, Tom, I hope ye'll get yer fill o' paintin' now." Tom's eyes beamed, but he made no verbal reply. Lucy followed him to the door as he passed out to the barn again.
She looked timidly at her uncle as he shook hands with her, remarking she was a pale-faced thing, and needed work and exercise to make her spry. Then the company sat down, and Tom, if Lucy did not, did ample justice to Miss Hepsy's cookery. It was an unsociable, uncomfortable meal.
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