Julia's Last Hope by Janette Oke Page A

explained.
    Felicity rolled her eyes at her sister. “Oh-oh,” she said. “The children-should-be-seen-and-not-heard kind.”
    John and Julia laughed.
    “Well, it could be that you will need to keep down your chatter for a few days,” Julia admitted, “but that shouldn’t be too hard.”
    “I keep forgetting,” said Felicity. “When I am serving in the dining room or putting fresh towels in the bath, I keep forgetting that I am not to talk—just serve.”
    “I know,” Julia smiled. “It’s difficult to shift roles, isn’t it?”
    John fidgeted. He hated to see his family become servants in their own home. His girls were hardly more than children and they were serving the table, doing dishes, cleaning bathrooms, and making beds. Julia had tried to assure him that the experience was good for them, but John would rather have had them learn their duties under different circumstances.
    “Enough chatter for now. We all have things to do if we are to be ready for tomorrow,” Julia went on. “Let’s be quiet while Papa reads the Scriptures.”
    The girls settled themselves to listen to the scripture lesson that John had chosen for the evening reading. Then each one prayed, asking God to keep them within His will. Felicity went a step further. “Dear God,” she prayed, “bring us good guests—not like the last time. Thank you that they don’t have wild boys or grumpy girls. Help us to do our best to care for them and might they pay good money for all of us to live on. Amen.”

    The buggy did not carry many suitcases when Tom arrived with the guests the next afternoon. Each visitor had one small piece. Tom looked pleased as he carried the two cases to the second floor bedrooms.
    “Do come in,” Julia greeted the couple. “You must be weary after your long train ride. Hettie will show you your rooms and the hall bath where you may refresh yourselves. We will have tea in the main parlor in fifteen minutes.”
    The gentleman nodded, giving Julia a kind smile, and took his wife’s arm to follow Hettie. The woman climbed the stairs with hesitation, causing Julia a moment’s concern. But she completed the climb with no apparent ill effects. Julia put aside her worry and went back to the kitchen.
    In fifteen minutes, just as Julia had arranged, the couple entered the parlor. They made no demands. Mr. Williams led his wife to a chair and helped her be seated. He pulled another chair up close to hers and seated himself.
    “Cream and sugar?” Julia asked.
    “Just sugar for me,” replied the woman, “but Mr. Williams will have a bit of both.”
    Julia served the tea and passed the dainty sandwiches.
    “My, you have a lovely home. So pretty. Not—not stark and cold like—like some places,” the woman observed as she helped herself to a sandwich.
    “Thank you,” responded Julia. She enjoyed having her home receive proper respect.
    “I love the pictures,” the woman went on. “That one in the hall, of the stream and the children. I could almost taste the water the boy is offering to the girl.”
    Julia enjoyed the compliment. The picture was one of her favorites.
    “Who is the artist?” the woman asked.
    “He was an acquaintance of my father,” Julia stated. “The picture was a wedding gift.”
    “Then I don’t suppose you want to sell it?” the woman asked, her brows arched over her lifted teacup.
    “No,” said Julia, shaking her head. “I think not.”
    Julia passed the cupcakes. Mr. Williams accepted one, but Mrs. Williams politely turned down the sweets.
    “I would like another cup of that lovely tea, though,” she murmured. “Quite the nicest cup of tea I have had for some time.”
    Julia smiled. “I suspect that our cold, clear spring water has something to do with that.”
    “Yes,” agreed the woman. “Yes, I suspect so.” Then she turned to her husband. “Do you suppose we could get our water from the spring?” she asked him.
    “We will drink nothing but spring water while we