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Mary brought her husband's coffee and put it beside his plate, as he was too absorbed to take it, and as she did so placed her hand on his shoulder with gentle pressure and their eyes met for an instant. Then grandfather Clide took up the thread. "Speaking of your father makes me think of my father, your old grandfather Clide, Mary.
"What are you doing here on the gate?" "I was watching the sky. I think God looked through and smiled, for all at once it blossomed. Now the colors are gone." Grandfather Clide set her gently on her feet and stood looking gravely down on her for a moment. "So?" he said.
"In God's good time," said grandmother Clide, quietly. "God's good time, in my opinion, seems to be when we are forced to a thing." Grandfather lifted one shaggy eyebrow in her direction. "At any rate, and whatever happens," said Bertrand, "the Union must be preserved, a nation, whole and undivided. My father left England for love of its magnificent ideals of government by the people.
The children were to ride over in the great carriage with grandfather and grandmother Clide, while father and mother would take Bobby with them in the carryall. It was an arrangement liked equally by the three small children and the well-content grandparents. Betty came to the house, clinging to her grandfather's hand.
Thus the children made the leave-taking less somber, to the relief of every one. Grandfather and grandmother Clide had friends of their own whom they had come all the forty miles to see, neighbor boys from many of the farms around their home, and their daughter-in-law's own brother, who was like a son to them.
It was conclusive. Grandfather Clide turned sideways, leaned one elbow on the table in a meditative way he had, and spoke slowly. Betty gazed up at him in wide-eyed attention, while Mary poured the coffee and Martha helped her mother by passing the cakes.
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