All the family at the cottage were awake at sunrise the next morning, and there was an unusual bustle throughout the house. Mrs. Maxwell was flying about with a duster in her hand, giving her orders to the servants, and working twice as busily as any of them. The large room opposite to Lucy's was open, and being put in thorough order. This room had been occupied by Lucy's mother during her illness, and had been kept closed since her death. It had always seemed a gloomy place to the little girl; she had peeped in when the door chanced to be open to air the apartment. Now it was undergoing an entire change; the shutters, so long fastened, were thrown back, and muslin curtains fluttered in the morning breeze; neat covers had been placed on the dark bureau and table; and on the latter Mrs. Maxwell was placing a large India work-box that had belonged to Mrs. Vale, and which Lucy had not seen since she was a very little child.
Before going down to breakfast, she stepped in to see the pleasant change more closely; she was startled by meeting a mild glance from a sweet face on the wall. It was her mamma's portrait that looked thus gently upon her, and she almost expected the kind face to bend down to kiss her, as it had been wont to do when that dear mamma was alive. Lucy had never seen this picture before, and she could not help wondering where it had come from, and why it was placed there, where none of the family could see it. Indeed, she was thoroughly puzzled to understand what could be the cause of all this commotion in the usually quiet house.
Mrs. Maxwell poured out coffee in silence, and Lucy asked no questions; but before they rose from the table, Harty came bounding into the room, crying, "Guess who is coming here, Lucy."
"Isn't it cousin Jack?" asked Lucy, almost sighing to think what a life she should lead with the two boys to tease her.
"Guess again," said Harty; and she did guess all the aunts, cousins, and friends that had ever been to make them a visit, but in vain. When Harty had enjoyed her curiosity long enough, he said, "Well, Miss Mouse" (a name he often called her), "sister Rosa is coming home to live, and she is to tell us what to do, and be like a little mother for us! That's what father told me."
Lucy did not know whether to be glad or sorry at this news; she had not seen her sister for many years, and perhaps she might be afraid of her, and perhaps Rosa might not care for such a little girl as herself, even younger than Harty.
The excited boy was in a state of great delight, and he talked to Lucy until she quite entered into his feelings. "Won't it be nice," he said, "to have Rosa at home? I shall offer her my arm when she goes to church, and lead you with the other hand. I shall lend her my 'Swiss Family Robinson;' I mean to put it in her room, that she may read it whenever she pleases. But she need not attempt to make me mind her, for I sha'n't do it; I am not going to have any girl set over me!"
"Oh, fie! Harty!" said Lucy, "to speak so of sister Rosa before you have seen her."
"Before I have seen her!" repeated Harty; "I remember her perfectly; I have not forgotten how I used to play—she was my horse—and drive her round the house; you were only a little baby then."
"Not so very little," answered Lucy, pettishly, for her brother had made her feel as if it were a disgrace to be young.