"Oh, that's all right," says he. "I'm going to invest, so as it'll bring us in nigh upon five hundred a year."
"Mr. Scott didn't count so much to be safe."
"Mr. Scott don't know everything," father said. "I suppose I'm as good a judge as most. I'm not going to throw the money away, mother, you may be sure. But supposing we say four hundred a year,—it don't make so much difference. We can afford a bigger house than this, anyway."
"Well, you must do what you think best," grannie said. "You're not a boy now, to take an old woman's advice. A man must look out for himself. I'll leave you to settle about the other house, Miles. It don't so much matter to me. I'm an old woman, and I can't look to live in any house many more years. I did say at first that I never would of my own free will go out of this, where I've been all my married life. But maybe that was selfishness. Maybe I could be of more use going than staying. If it's God's will for me, I'm willing—that's all. So you needn't think about me, Miles. If you both feel it's the best and right thing to do, I'll come with you."
Father seemed very pleased. I had not seen him so kind for a good while past. He said more than once—"That's right, mother—things'll go straight now."
The very next day father came in, saying there was a house to let in Pleasant Row, only three doors off from the Raikes'. I wondered if mother had seen it before. She and father went to look it over, and when they came back they could talk of nothing else. The rent was forty pounds, and that seemed a deal; but mother said—"What was forty pounds out of five hundred?" It was only a small house, but the rents in the town had been getting very high of late.
The house had to be taken at once, if at all, for somebody else was asking after it. Grannie begged father to wait and do nothing till the money should come. But he said it would be a thousand pities to miss the chance, for they might not find another so nice, and he could easily get the money lent him for the first quarter's rent.
"We needn't move in yet, you know," he said.
So it was all settled, and the next thing spoken about was that the cottage must be sold. I think that did go to grannie's heart. But she never made a word of complaint—only sometimes I saw her looking at one thing and another, as if she were saying such a sorrowful good-bye. Poor grannie! I wondered often at her patience.