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"I know James is good and kind, grampa," the girl said earnestly; "but you see, he is not very amusing, and Richard is very nice." "Nice! Yes," the old soldier said; "a fair weather sort of niceness, Aggie.
Her quick ear, however, caught, in the tones of John Petersham, an apologetic tone when speaking of her grandfather, and she was moved to instant anger. "Why do you speak like that of my grampa?" she said, rising to her feet, and standing indignantly before him. "He is the best man in the world, and the kindest and the nicest, and if you don't like him, I can go away to him again.
"The water was cold and nasty," Aggie said, "and it seemed so warm and nice to my hands. Aggie won't go near the water any more. Of course, if the boy is with me I can go, because he won't let me tumble in. "Shall I get into the basket now, grampa? I is tired." "Oh, nonsense, little woman! you have not walked half a mile yet.
"Why " temporized Anthony, somewhat disconcerted. "I am working. You know " "Ah, I mean work," said Adam Patch dispassionately. "I'm not quite sure yet what I'll do. I'm not exactly a beggar, grampa," he asserted with some spirit. The old man considered this with eyes half closed. Then almost apologetically he asked: "How much do you save a year?" "Nothing so far "
They exchanged a mute look of no particular significance but of much stress. Then Anthony took a book from the shelf and dropped into a chair. Half an hour later her voice came out of the intense stillness that pervaded the room and hung like incense on the air. "I'll drive over and see Constance Merriam to-morrow." "All right. And I'll go to Tarrytown and see Grampa."
Rose-Ellen said, "Hurry, Grampa, everything's getting cold." But she understood. He was thinking that their dear old house was no longer theirs. Something strange had happened to it, called "sold for taxes," and they were allowed to live in it only this summer. Grandma blamed the shop. It had brought in the money to buy the house in the first place and had kept it up until a few years ago.
"Just like where grampa keeps his pig!" "How true, little sister! but you needn't use my feet for a sidewalk. I'll take you up in my arms. It snowed in the night; but that makes it all the muddier." "Yes, it doesn't do snow any good to fall into New York mud," said Aunt Madge; "it is like touching pitch." "I thought it felt like pitch," remarked Dotty; "sticks to your boots so."
I don't want to stay here, not one minute. "You may be my grandpapa," she went on, turning to the squire, "and you may be lonely, but he is lonely, too, and you have got a great house, and all sorts of nice things; and you can do better without me than he can, for he has got nothing to love but me, poor grampa!"
"It's not that I have any moral compunctions about work," he continued, "but grampa may die to-morrow and he may live for ten years. Meanwhile we're living above our income and all we've got to show for it is a farmer's car and a few clothes. We keep an apartment that we've only lived in three months and a little old house way off in nowhere.
His grampa' 'uz a Hynds, likewise his ma, but she 'sisted on marryin' er furriner, an' de boy takes atter de furriners 'stead er we-all. 'Taint de po' boy's fault, but ol' Mis' Scarlett hated 'im wuss 'n pizen. De only notice she take er de boy is ter warrant 'im fo' trispassin'. Dat 's how come folkses ter say " he paused suddenly. "Well, what do folks say?" I wanted to know.
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