“No.”
Nevertheless Ellen was obviously disconcerted. There was an uncanny quality in Lucy that left her with a sense that every 56 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, 57 either. So, Aunt Ellen Webster, you’d better be careful how you treat me.”
With a defiant shake of her miniature fist in the direction her aunt had taken, Lucy turned to attack the duties before her. She washed the dishes and put them away; tripped upstairs and kneaded the billowy feather beds into smoothness; and humming happily, she swept and polished the house until it shone. She did such things well and delighted in the miracles her small hands wrought.