"There's Martin Howe an' his three sisters, if that's what you want to know," snapped Ellen. Lucy, however, was not to be rebuffed. She attributed her aunt's ungraciousness to her irritation about the breakfast and, determining to remain unruffled, she went on patiently: "It's nice for you to have them so near, isn't it?" "It don't make no difference to me, their bein' there. I don't know 'em." For some reason that Lucy could not fathom, the woman's temper seemed to be rising, and being a person of tact she promptly shifted the subject. "No matter about the Howes any more, Aunt Ellen," she said, smiling into the other's frowning face. "Tell me instead what you want me to do to help you to-day? Now that I'm here you must divide the work with me so I may have my share." Although Ellen did not return the smile, the scowl on her forehead relaxed. "You'll find plenty to keep you busy, I guess," she returned. "There's all the housework to be done--dishes, beds, an' sweepin'; an' then there's milk to set an' skim; eggs to collect an' pack for market; hens to feed; an'----" "Goodness me!" "You ain't so keen on dividin' up, eh?" "Oh, it isn't that," returned Lucy quickly. "I was only thinking what a lot you had to do. No wonder you sent for me." It was a random remark, but it struck Ellen's conscience with such aplomb that she flushed, dismayed. "What do you mean?" she faltered. As Lucy looked at her aunt, she observed the shifting glance, the crafty smile, the nervous interlacing of the fingers. "Mean?" she returned innocently. "Why, nothing, Aunt Ellen. We must all work for a living one way or another, I suppose. If I prefer to stay here with you and earn my board there is no disgrace in it, is there?" "No." Nevertheless Ellen was obviously disconcerted. There was an uncanny quality in Lucy that left her with a sense that every hiding place in her heart was laid bare. Were the girl's ingenuous observations as ingenuous as they seemed? Or were they the result of an abnormal intuition, a superhuman power for fathoming the souls of others? Eager to escape the youthful seer, the woman pushed back her chair and rose. "I must go out an' see what that boy Tony's up to," she said. "While I'm gone you might tidy up round here a bit. There's the dishes an' the beds; an' in the pantry you'll find the eggs with the cases to pack 'em in. An' if you get round to it you might sweep up the sittin' room." "All right." Drawing on a worn coat Ellen moved toward the door; when, however, her hand was on the knob, she turned and called over her shoulder: "The washin's soakin' in the tubs in the shed. You can hang it out if you like." Lucy waited until she saw the angular figure wend its way to the barn. Then she broke into a laugh. "The old fox! She did get me here to work for her," she murmured aloud. "Anyway, I don't have to stay unless I like; and I shan't, either. So, Aunt Ellen Webster, you'd better be careful how you treat me."