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An' would she take the box ter Colb'ry in her grandad's wagin, an' send it ter him by express. He hed tole her once whar he hed placed it an' ter mark the spot mo' percisely he hed noticed one Chilhowee lily bulb right beside it. An' then says the letter, 'Good bye, Chilhowee Lily! An' all them fellers stood staring."
The roar of a rapid, the gleam of a long curving stream, a sharp turn through a pair of bars, and we found ourselves approaching a low unpainted house which stood on a level bench overlooking a river and its meadows. "There it is. That's Grandad's house," said mother, and peering over her shoulder I perceived a group of people standing about the open door, and heard their shouts of welcome.
I had some notion of its near-by loveliness for I had once viewed it from the top of the tall bluff which stood like a warder at the gate of our valley, and when one bright morning my father said, "Belle, get ready, and we'll drive over to Grandad's," we all became greatly excited.
'You, Richie, the member for this borough of Chippenden, have won solid ground. I guarantee it to you. And you go straight from the hustings, or the first taste of parliamentary benches, to Sarkeld: you take your grandad's proposition to Prince Ernest: you bring back the prince's acceptance to the squire.
I think I've got it pretty straight now, the place that he goes to, and I'll see if I can't get there soon enough to put myself in a comfortable fix, so as to see what's a-going on and what he goes after. Now, gran'pa, I'll tell you what I want from you them pocket-pistols of your'n. Bill Hinkley carried off grandad's, and there's none besides that I can lay hold on."
One day when Maren had been to the village shop, Ditte ran out screaming, as she came back. "Grandad's dead!" she burst out sobbing. Sören lay bruised and senseless across the doorstep to the kitchen. He had been up on the big chest, meddling with the hands of the clock. Maren dragged him to bed and bathed his wounds, and when it was done he lay quietly following her movements with his eyes.
The little one did not like to sit quietly on a chair beside Grandad's bed, and as soon as she saw a chance of escape, off she would run. This was hardest of all to Sören, he felt alone and forsaken, all was blackness and despair. Before long, however, he lost all interest in the child, as he did in everything else.
I guess he most looks to see an angel," Mrs. Blake remarked dryly. In the ripple of laughter that followed, I turned to little Freddie who was crying softly with his face hidden in a chair. "What is the matter, my little man?" "Why you see, Miss Selwyn, Grandad's going away, and they're going to put a sharp knife in his eyes; and maybe he will die." He burst into a louder fit of weeping.
Hopelessly "sot" in all his eastern ways, he remained the doubter, the critic, all his life. Grandfather's church was a small white building in the edge of the village, Grandad's place of worship was a vision, a cloud-built temple, a house not made with hands. The contrast between my grandmothers was equally wide. Harriet Garland was tall and thin, with a dark and serious face.
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