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"O grandpa," she exclaimed suddenly, "won't you stop a minute and let me get out. I want to get some of that beautiful bittersweet." "What do you want that for?" said he. "You can't get out very well." "O yes I can please, grandpa! I want some of it very much just one minute!"
The child put no more questions just then as is the wont of children; but she treasured up the incident for long in her heart, wondering much to herself why, if her grandpa was so grand an old gentleman, she and her mamma should have to live by themselves in such scrubby little lodgings. Also, why her grandpa, who looked so kind, should refuse so severely to kiss her mammy.
Walter waited rather impatiently till the blessing had been asked, then, with an entreating look at his mother, said, "Mamma, you know what you promised?" "Yes, my son; but be patient a little longer. I see your grandpa has something to say." "Something that Walter will be glad to hear, I make no doubt," remarked Mr. Dinsmore, giving the child a kindly look and smile. "Capt.
"We didn't understand them," said Marjorie, thoughtfully. "When I tried to be good I got scolded, and when I cut up jinks they gave me a present for it! Who could know what to do in a house like that?" Mr. Maynard smiled in spite of himself. "I think you've struck it. Midget," he said. "Grandma and Grandpa Maynard are a little inconsistent, and don't always know exactly what they do want.
Pa and me, when we go to meetin', we most allus come across him a carryin' his Sunday School book under his arm, and may be," concluded Grandma Keeler, "there'll be a time when we shall more on us wish that thar' wan't nothin' wuss could be brought against us than being innocent." We pondered these suggestive words a few moments in silence; then Grandpa Keeler boldly interposed:
"I'm going there, too . . . I'm taking this bouquet of geraniums to put on Grandpa Irving's grave for grandma. And look, teacher, I'm going to put this bunch of white roses beside Grandpa's grave in memory of my little mother. . . because I can't go to her grave to put it there. But don't you think she'll know all about it, just the same?" "Yes, I am sure she will, Paul."
"Ah, I see what the trouble is!" cried the bunny uncle with a jolly laugh, looking down inside the "toot-tooter." "It is so cold that the tunes are all frozen solid in your horn. But I have a hot apple pie here in my basket that I was taking to Grandpa Goosey Gander. I'll hold the cold horn on the hot pie and the tunes will thaw out." "Oh, have you a pie in there?" asked Little Boy Blue.
One child is fair, two are dark. You will know them by the way they speak to you." Grandpa had now hastened home to hold me on his lap and to hear me say that I was glad to be at his house and intended to help grandma all I could for being so good as to bring me there.
I'm sure I was all tumbled together like Grandpa Smallweed, and I've an awful suspicion that my mouth was open." Sylvia shook her head. "Honestly? Don't spare me." He slowly pulled himself upright, and Sylvia shrank closer to the mast. Her eyes shone like those of a startled bird who awaits only a shade more certainty of danger to dart from the spot. "No, no!" she exclaimed.
"She has something against you, I can tell you," said the old gentleman, looking amused, and speaking as if Fleda were a curious little piece of human mechanism which could hear its performances talked of with all the insensibility of any other toy. "She gives it as her judgment that Mr. Carleton is the most of a gentleman, because he keeps his promise." "Oh, grandpa!"
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