as that—you know we must mind our p's and q's with Ferris—don't look so dismal, child—it's only waiting till to-morrow."
"Jemmie will think it's for ever waiting till to-morrow."
"Jemmie! Oh, that little broken-back brother you told me about—never mind; I'll give you some of the children's old playthings to carry to him to-morrow."
"He is not fond of playthings, Mrs. Ardley, he can't play with them."
"Well, books, then—picture books."
Lucy's face brightened. She had often thought how happy it would make Jemmie to possess a few of the books the children were tossing about the nursery. "Thank you, Mrs. Ardley," she said, "nothing would please Jemmie so much; it will make the time seem shorter when I am away;" and half consoled, and but half, she returned to the kitchen, where Ferris greeted her with, "You'll find, Miss Lucy Lee, you'll never get the upper hands of me; so you may as well give up first as last telling about burnt spreads, or trying to keep me at home when my turn is out."
"I did not try to keep you at home, Mrs. Ferris, I only tried to go myself; and if you knew how much reason I had, you would not wonder."
Her mild answer softened Ferris, and she said, "Well, well, child, your turn will come—young folks must give way, you know."
Lucy, after "doing up her odds and ends," went to bed and went to sleep, for sleep is the certain compensation, the sure wages of the working; but not till she had wondered whether mother looked
