“Oh, grandma,” cried Mary, throwing her arms around her, and bursting into tears, “we can't take you back with us. Oh, dear.”
And the other girls cried over her, and kissed her in a piteous, tender way, feeling as if their hearts would break for the pity of it. And the young men were conscious of moisture about the eyes as they stood looking on.
But Grandma Fellows smiled cheerily, and said:—
“I'm a foolish old woman to cry, and you mustn't think it is because I want to be young again. It's only because I can't help it.”
Perhaps she could n't have explained it better.