The Roanoke times. [volume] (Roanoke, Va.) 1890-1895, 1893-11-07

as much us do for you, you might look
after them better. It's all you've got
to do. There's no telling what mischief
they're I'M"
And again the old lady went to her
room in silence and with burning
cheeks. When they called her to sup
per she said she was not hungry, and,
as Lucy and George were in dire dis
grace and sent to bed supperless. Ma
tllda and her husband ate alone.
Mother always did have such disa-
grceable temper-stubborn and sulky.
II she had been milder with father
they would have lived more like other
people," said Matilda, indifrerentJy.
when explaining the cause of her moth
er's absence.
VI wouldn't keer SO much" the old
lady was sobbing to herself upstairs,
III only pap he'd sent me some little
word that he wanted to see me. Chill
dren's most alters ungrateful any ways,
specially them that's he'd the most
done fur 'em, an I've wor ked my life
out for mine.
but wouldn't q had 'em if it hadn't
been for love of pap. an don't think
he'd ort to forgit me now!"
Down in the city the warm spring
days nwolse q new restlessness in old
Mr.. Paine. His daughter Jane was as
kind to him as kind daughter could
be. Her children were taught to ad.
dress him respectfully and to wait on
his every wish because he was their
grandparent. But the warm sunshine
called up visions of the country home
where the grass would be just deepen
inc info
boughs bursting with buds.
He had always had lettuce bed lust
through at this time. And the spring
longings recalled the days of youth and
the little children who had PLAYED
about him as he weeded and hoed in
ms garden, and the busy mother often
taking time from her own work to help
him. But she had always scolded SO
much, he muttcrcd defiantly to himself
ana was ever so determined to have
her own way. Then Il twingc of con-
science told him her way had generally
been the best, for she was clearer
sighted than he, and he picked up his
cane and hobblcd away to the park in a
funny sort of little dudgeon Then as
he SIT i'll the park he thought of Henry
and tears came to his eyes in spite of
him.
Hes mighty fond of his mother-an'
she was good mother, too; I'll say
that for her anyways. Henry was a
fine boy. He'd a-been the finest we got
II he'd a-ived, for he seemed to hev
more sense an good-hcartcdncss, some
ways. don't know as 1 blame her,
after all, for bein' SO bound to hev him
go to college"
And, the barrier of stubborn reproach
| once loosencd, some way everything
began to look different, and when he
hobbled back to tho house the old gen
tleman was very heart-sick to SEQ the
wife he had treated SO brusuuely the
past many years.
He went straight to his old satchel
and took out n well-cared-for book, but
one of an old binding and print 1t
was Latin grammar, and had been
his secret and most carefully preserved
treasure for over thirty years.
AS the mother had gone to the grave
OF her most ardent ambitions, so he
now turned the pages of his BOYS
book, one word of which he could not
understand, but could only regard with
awe. Then he came to page on the
margin of which was much fine writing
in elegant script 1t was not hard for
him to read, little book learning as he
had.
'Mother-dear mother Wife and
mother, mans truest friends-guardian
angels in death. Mother-sweethea
-wife-Edith."
He must a-been in love with some
body himself" unused the old father,
"but he didn't forgit his mother. Meth
err She was my sweetheart onct!"
Before grandfather went to sleep
that night he had formed Il fresh deter
mination.
Jennie" he said to his daughter in
the morning, you know the Barl1in
cottage up to the Crossings? Well, Pm
goin' up and see if I can't rent it.
Thcy's nice garden patch with it, and
faint too late yet to put in garden
stuff, an'-an'-don't we think mother'd
be willin' fur to cook fur me"
yes, father; you know she always
sends You her respects" There were
tears in James eyes, despite the smile
on her lips
An Pm pretty sure could make
enough with the garden fur her an me,
an you children could help us. don't
believe Henry would want us to live
this way; do you?"
mo, father"
That night. an hour or so after the
express Numbered past the station, a
couple of miles from the crossing
Grandfather Paine walked up Matilda's
front yard and around to the back door,
where the old grandmother was put
ting away the nights milk
Grandmother gave little glad cry
and dropped The crock of milk all over