Ben laughed. "No, but I heard about it all years ago, and it came to my mind to-day when I was having it out with Nathan. I'll venture to say he is thinking more of those old times, at this very minute, than he is of his troubles."
"Poor old Nat," grandpa shook his head. "He was as high-spirited a young chap as ever lived, but uncontrolled and always fighting against the pricks. It must be pretty hard for him, pretty hard. He has grown so morose and snappish that no one takes the trouble to do more than nod to him nowadays. He wasn't a bad sort, too free and open-handed, too fond of pleasure, maybe."
"He doesn't have much chance to indulge himself there in these days," remarked grandma.
"False friends, a worthless wife and a bad son have about finished up what he had. With good money after bad all the time there is nothing left but that little tumbledown house he lives in."
"What does he live on?" asked Ben.
"Ask your grandpa," answered Mrs. Willis smiling across at her husband.
"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Mr. Willis, "nobody counts a load of wood or a bag of potatoes once in a while. I must stop and see if I can't draw him out of his shell some of these days."
"Talk to him about when you were boys, grandpa," said Ben; "that will fetch him."
Just here, Reliance came to the door to say that Ira would like to speak to Mr. Willis, and Mrs. Barker appropriated Ben, so Edna was left to her grandmother and her mother.
"So we are going to lose our little girl to-morrow," grandma began.