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Ask, Oh! ask most anybody; grand-dad even, though he won't take a nickel from Joe or anybody else except what he works for, ask him. He's queer, is Joe, and I ain't a bit struck on him, not now, I 'most hate him. But he ain't got a bad heart, all the same."
"And Old Faithful was saying that Grand-dad Babar was as good as twenty other men in a fight, so then you'll be quite safe." But Mirak's face was solemn. "If Grand-dad doesn't know it's for him he won't come in, and he won't eat the sweets either. It's greedy to eat sweets as doesn't belong to you, and he wasn't greedy. Old Faithful says he wasn't. He was a real King."
"Rita, what would you give to have your grand-dad renounce his vow some day and begin speaking to your grandmother as if nothing had ever been amiss?" She looked at me and her lips trembled. "Say, George! Don't fool me. I ain't myself on that subject." "What would you give, Rita?" "I'd give anything. I'd pretty near give my life, George; for grandmother would be happier'n an angel."
"I feel in spirits to-night, Nina," he said, looking at his grandchild. "Have a little more wine, Grand-dad," she said, in retort. In spite of all her efforts, her voice had an anxious ring in it as she spoke. He looked at her keenly. He was as suspicious as man could be. He half-stretched out his hand to seize the decanter, then with a sly smile he replaced the stopper in the neck of the bottle.
One whose son is a blessed Pope can commit sins!" "Send him to my house tomorrow, Petra," cried the old man enthusiastically, "and I'll teach him to weave the nito!" "Huh! Get out! What are you dreaming about, grand-dad? Do you still think that the Popes even move their hands? The curate, being nothing more than a curate, only works in the mass when he turns around!
The savage never so much as touches 'em or listens to 'em or imitates 'em, but he rots down right thar. Which the pale-face shorely kills said Injuns on the nest! as my old grand-dad used to say.
Father's dad was a judge, back in Maine, and in the war, grand-dad was quite friendly with Grant." This tribute of Milt to his grandsire was loyal but inaccurate. Judge Daggett, who wasn't a judge at all, but a J. P., had seen General Grant only once, and at the time the judge had been in company with all the other privates in the Fourteenth Maine. "Dad was a pioneer. He was a doctor.
"It is a prophecy!" said Old Faithful, overhearing the remark. "Sure his grand-dad Baber on whom be peace had the gift, and this babe may have inherited it." "May have," echoed Head-nurse indignantly. "He has inherited it, and has much of his own besides. Mark my words! if this child live which Heaven grant he will be the King of Kings! Not two summers old and he talks as one of three."
"Poor little girl," I exclaimed, as I laid my hand on her head. "How long has this been going on between your grandmother and grand-dad?" Her eyes filled. "Oh! George, it ain't grandmother's fault. She'd give her soul if grand-dad would only speak to her. It's killing her gradual, like a dry rot." "How long has it been going on?" I asked again. "Oh! long's I can remember; near about ten years.
I know your taste, witch." "I love olives," said Nina. "Sit at the table, Grand-dad, and let us begin. By the way, when did you shave last?" "Ha ha, who have I to shave for now, my pretty Nina? Nobody cares for the old man, nobody looks at him with eyes of admiration. Why should he waste his money and his time over the barbarous rite of shaving?
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