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Updated: June 18, 2025
Sunny wandered over to another trunk that stood open and poked an inquiring hand down into its depths. "What's this, Mother?" he asked, holding up a queer, square little cap. "Be careful, precious, that is Grandpa's Civil War trunk," warned Mother, coming over to him. "Grandmother meant to put the things out to air to-day and then it rained.
It costs her something, I've discovered, for she wants an education, and could get it if she left this poor place and lived for herself; but she won't go, and works hard to get money for Grandpa's comfort, instead of buying the books she longs for.
Matty's next words, spoken in a sepulchral whisper, bore down on her with emphasis. "Then what do ye think, honey bunch?" "I don't know!" Virginia leaned forward expectantly. "Jest as Betty was hangin' fast onto her grandpa's spirit, another ghost, some spots of black on him, come right longside the white one, wavin' his hands's if he was goin' to fly." Virginia sat up very straight.
Grandpa's birthday was always celebrated by a family gathering; but to-day, being the fiftieth anniversary of his wedding, the various households had resolved to keep it with unusual pomp; and all were coming for a supper, a dance, and a "sing" at the end.
Memorable were the colloquies held that morning between Grandma and Grandpa Keeler; Grandpa's tragic assumption of manly consequence, and solemn fears lest we should miss the train, directed in astute syllables of warning towards Grandma Keeler; Grandma's increased deliberation, and imperturbable quietude of soul.
Then, singing to make herself forget how hungry she was, she hurried into the littlest house and shall it be told? caught up her grandpa's plate and licked the crumbs from it, then inverted the tin cup and let the few drops still left in it trickle slowly down her throat; and such was Glory's dinner. Afterward she took out needle and thread and heigho!
Audley." "Which I do say that it's not kind of the gentleman to take his poor grandpa's pet away," Mrs. Plowson exclaimed, suddenly, with respectful indignation. "Hush, Mrs. Plowson," the old man answered, piteously; "Mr. Audley is the best judge. I I haven't many years to live; I sha'n't trouble anybody long."
Once, as he passed a cabin where a boy of about his own age stood washing his hands on the porch, and he caught a glimpse of a cheerful interior, with dinner smoking on the table, he felt very homesick. He wished he was back, preparing his grandpa's noonday meal.
Several long and dismal toots sent Lita galloping through the grassy path as the sound of the trumpet excites a war-horse, and "father and Bijah," alarmed by the signal at that hour, leaned on their rakes to survey with wonder the distracted-looking little horseman approaching like a whirlwind. "Guess likely grandpa's had 'nother stroke.
The damsel paused at a gate opening upon a broad lawn evenly divided by a brick walk that led to the white-painted wooden veranda of an ample and honest old brick house. "Righ' there to grandpa's, since you haf to know!" she said. "And thank you for your delightful comp'ny which I never asked for, if you care to hear the truth for once in your life!" Herbert meditated.
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