have," said Lucy. "I think it should be Hatty. It will do her good; and if she chooses, she may take one of the children with her, if mother is willing. We'll have some body come to wash and iron; I can do all the rest. And Hatty needs change and

rest."

Her mother opposed this plan; she knew that Lucy could not bear all the household care alone.

"It is the will of God that I should sit here, almost helpless," said she. "If it were any will but His, I couldn't bear it."

"We shall get along nicely, mother," said Lucy. "I feel well, and able to do a great deal; I've got a little money to help us along when we get into hard places; and I'm going to use it, in making things easy and pleasant for you. I hear one of them coming now." She ran out, and soon returned with a comfortable, stuffed chair, in which she helped her mother to seat herself, and for which she had sent fifty miles.

"There!" she cried, "all the books in the world couldn't make me so happy as this chair does! No all the watches, either!" she added to herself.

CHAPTER XXVII.

A NEW HOME.

THE arrangements made by Lucy's friends for the previous summer, were now executed. The whole party came to H- which was a pleasant mountainous region, and very soon had established themselves so agreeably there, as to resolve to make it their future summer resort. Lucy had now the pleasure of seeing the meeting between her mother and aunt; and was delighted to find them mutually attracted towards each other. It was also delightful to witness the renewal of the school-day friendship; to hear Mrs. Lee call her mother' Sarah,' and to hear her mother, in return, address Mrs. Lee as 'Hatty;' just as if long, long years had not passed since their last meeting.

"I must let you see your name-sake," said Mrs. Grant after the first greeting, and drawing Hatty towards Mrs. Lee. This was a pleasant surprise to

Mrs. Lee, who needed, however, no proof that she had been beloved and remembered.

"I wish my brother had known this," said she, "when he was so unfortunate as to injure one of your sons. It would have made him feel that he knew you." Mrs. Lee was not aware that she was referring to the dear boy they all were mourning, but their silence suggested it to her. She hastened, therefore, to change the subject. Seeing her friends so often during this summer, was of great service to Mrs. Grant. She needed the gentle stimulus their society furnished; Lucy saw with delight that it seemed to reänimate her.

Helen was perfectly contented if she could only be near Lucy; by degrees she settled down among them as one of the family; Hatty charmed her; such good boys she never had seen; as for the bread and butter, there never was any thing like it in the world.

"I see there's no use in trying to carry you off," she said one day to Lucy. "They can't do without you. But if you'll let me, I'll come every summer; I shall read to you and improve your mind, while you make bread and butter, and all sorts of good things, to improve my color. And we'll have de lightful times together!" So she followed Lucy one

whole day, with a book in her hand; but at night she said they must invent a new plan for the children had each asked one hundred questions, that had to be answered one hundred times; and the pot had boiled over twice and put the fire out; and Lucy had got dreadfully tired, with mind and body on the stretch at once. Then she thought she would help about the work; so she insisted on dressing one of the children, whom she drove to such a state of desperation by the length of the process, that he told his brother in confidence, that if people were going to be a year in tying his shoes, he guessed he should have to learn to do it himself; also inquiring how he should feel, if a girl should button up one of her long ringlets in his jacket, so that they were fastened together like a yoke of oxen.

Rebecca, however, was at home; she smoothed away some of the difficulties, and made time for Lucy to devote to Helen. So the summer passed to the satisfaction of all, and when Mrs. Whittier and Mrs. Lee departed, it was in full expectation that the following summer would reünite the circle.

But with them, left also the transient flash of apparent health, with which Mrs. Grant had been borne through the summer. Her strength sank at once; she became helpless as a child, and needed

constant attention day and night. Rebecca was summoned home by her husband, who was heartily tired of living alone; and the four little boys went with her, at her urgent request. Indeed, it was quite necessary that this relief should be furnished Lucy and Hatty; for their cares and anxieties were now very great. It was a long, hard, sorrowful winter the smiles of the patient sufferer alone enlivened it; for, seeing her constant, ceaseless pain, they could not smile; they could only try to imitate her in her patience. It was on a quiet spring morning that the struggle ceased; and the face that had borne the impress of mortal agony for eight weary months, shone with the beauty of undisturbed repose. The tranquil, benign expression, put aside for a season only in the conflict with death, came back and was sealed upon the brow. They had not seen her look so like herself during the whole weary winter as now, when death restored what sickness had taken away. Who that looked upon that face, could doubt that "all was well?" Above all, who that had known the patient, Christian, cheerful life, could doubt it?

The mourning household went to lay her down by the side of Arthur. They thought they knew what sorrow meant, when they saw the earth cover