"Not mine," returned matter-of-fact Jem, standing still in the middle of the room, and looking suspiciously at the visitor. "Not mine. I never had any, and don't want one."
"Who is this?" asked Major Joe, looking at the defiant little figure dubiously.
"She is my half-sister," answered Ruth.
"Well, well," said her grandfather, "she ain't Ruth's child, so I've no call to take her when I take you, Ruth. Her father can send her to his own people."
"Then, grandfather, I cannot go with you," said Ruth, sadly, but firmly. "I will never leave Jem."
"Ruth, you're not going to leave me, are you?" cried the little girl.
"No, indeed, dear, I shall not leave you. It was not very nice for you to speak of grandpa as you did just now. You should always be polite to an old person. Remember this, Jem."
"I don't care," said Jem, defiantly. "He's horrid. He wants to take you away, and you're all I've got 'cept father, and—and he's going to die," she sobbed, hiding her face in Ruth's arms.
"Don't cry, Jem. I will not leave my little sister. What could I do without you?"
"No, no, little one, Ruth's grandfather won't part you, if you're so fond of each other." And the major came over and patted the sobbing child's head, soothingly. His was too tender a heart to withstand the sight of a child in distress, so it was soon settled that he was to be Jem's grandfather also, which arrangement was accepted by the little girl as readily as she had rejected the idea a moment before.