THE FARM. 85

at this, for she thought of her Cousin Lucy, who
certainly looked, when they entered the parlour,
as if she needed something to cheer her. Lucy
was yawning, half.asleep, over the pictures in a
Farmer’s Magazine which she had picked up, and
which was the only thing she could find to amuse
her, as her father had not yet returned from his
walk, and her mother was too much occupied with
Emma to unpack her books or toys.

“Here, Cousin Lucy,” exclaimed Mary, pre-
senting her offering as soon as she entered, ‘“ here
are some raspberries.”

“T picked them!” said Charley. ‘Cousin Mary,
and I, and Mrs. Nye picked some too,” he added,
“and I am going to make hay to-morrow. Did
you ever make hay, mother?”

‘No, sir,” said the smiling Mrs. Lovett,
“never.”

“Well, Cousin Mary and I ure going to make
hay to-morrow. I promised Mr. Nye to help him,
and Cousin Mary begged to go too—”

“But you begged to go too, Charley,” said Mary;
“you begged to go before Mr. Nye said anything
about your helping him.”’