When Lucy had performed her duty and the several
greetings were over, and Uncle Ephraim had
shaken the hand of the young hostess in true pump-
handle fashion, the old man roaring with laughter
all the time, as if it were the funniest thing in the
world to find her alive; and the good clergyman in
his mildest and most impressive manner had said she
grew more and more like her mother every day--
which was a flight of imagination on the part of
the dear man, for she didn't resemble her in the
least; and the two thin girls had remarked that it
must be so "perfectly blissful" to get home; and
the young lawyer had complimented her on her wonderful,
almost life-like resemblance to her grand-
father, whose portrait hung in the court-house--and
which was nearer the truth--to all of which the
young girl replied in her most gracious tones, thanking
them for their kindness in coming to see her
and for welcoming her so cordially--the whole of
Lucy's mind once more reverted to Bart.

Indeed, the several lobes of her brain had been
working in opposition for the past hour. While one-
half of her mind was concocting polite speeches for
her guests the other was absorbed in the fear that
Bart would either get tired of waiting for her return
and leave the sofa, or that some other girl friend
of his would claim him and her delightful talk be
at an end.