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"Gran's," she shouted; "it's been lost a mighty long time. Now I'm goin' to wear it to my five-o'clock tea. It's a picter hat, same's that lady had on to your house once I seen her."
So she had given out whoever could ride that flame should have her to wife. So when Gunnar and Hogni reached it, Gunnar rode at it, but his horse, good though it was, swerved from the fierce flame. Then by Grimhild's magic arts, Sigurd and Gunnar changed shapes and arms, and Sigurd leapt up on Gran's back, and the good steed bore him bravely through the flame.
I can only give a brief summary of the second winter, taken from Atkinson's and Gran's accounts: the weather was probably exceptional from the persistency of the early winter blizzards. There was a great dearth of seal-meat, due to the ice blowing out from the North Bay and to the lack of ice everywhere in May month.
On November 27, 1912, Gran's diary gives as follows: "Great news again great, good news. Campbell here and his party safe at Cape Evans. They just missed us going out. They lived a winter
"It's not your poor old gran's doing it, my lovey," said old Ma Parker, patting back the damp hair from his little scarlet ears. But Lennie moved his head and edged away. Dreadfully offended with her he looked and solemn. He bent his head and looked at her sideways as though he couldn't have believed it of his gran. But at the last... Ma Parker threw the counterpane over the bed.
"Look what a state you've made your gran's skirt into you wicked boy!" But he put his arms round her neck and rubbed his cheek against hers. "Gran, gi' us a penny!" he coaxed. "Be off with you; Gran ain't got no pennies." "Yes, you 'ave." "No, I ain't." "Yes, you 'ave. Gi' us one!" Already she was feeling for the old, squashed, black leather purse. "Well, what'll you give your gran?"
"'Poor little thing. It was just aiming for somebody's hencoop. One of 'em 'll eat chickens faster than Gran's hens can hatch 'em out." Pushing on through the woods at this slow pace brought them to the ruined grist mill and the old dam not before ten o'clock.
There was no great difficulty in finding that, either, once she had set about it; for soon her hand rested on the key, as she felt along the tops of the beams, and came to the one where Granny Thornton had laid it. "I'm going to have a look," said the girl softly to herself. "Gran's always telling me to keep out of here."
Taking him to the cemetery, even, never gave him a colour; a nice shake-up in the bus never improved his appetite. But he was gran's boy from the first... "Whose boy are you?" said old Ma Parker, straightening up from the stove and going over to the smudgy window.
Even if she broke down, if at last, after all these years, she were to cry, she'd find herself in the lock-up as like as not. But at the thought of crying it was as though little Lennie leapt in his gran's arms. Ah, that's what she wants to do, my dove. Gran wants to cry.
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