The attic should be cleaned to-morrow. In
one day? Nay, why not three, to hold Time still, and make him wait her
pleasure? Then there were the chambers, and the living-rooms below. She
felt all the excited joy of youth; she was tasting anticipation at its
best.
"It'll take me a week," said she. "That will be grand." She could
hardly wait even for the morrow's sun; and that night she slept like
those of whom much is to be required, and who must wake in season.
Morning came, and mid-forenoon, and while she stepped about under the
roof where dust had gathered and bitter herbs told tales of summers
past, John drove into the yard. Lucy Ann threw up the attic window and
leaned out.
"You put your horse up, an' I'll be through here in a second," she
called. "The barn's open."
John was in a hurry.
"I've got to go over to Sudleigh, to meet the twelve o'clock," said he.
"Harold's comin'. I only wanted to say I'll be over after you the night
before Thanksgivin'. Mary wants you should be sure to be there to
breakfast. You all right? Cephas said you seemed to have a proper good
time with them."
John turned skillfully on the little green and drove away. Lucy Ann
stayed at the window watching him, the breeze lifting her gray curls,
and the sun smiling at her.
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