"Brouse?" The children were interested. They wanted to know what brouse was. The maid smiled.
"Why brouse is just bread broken up into a bowl with hot water poured over it and lots of butter and salt and pepper added. One day when Mrs. Bartlett was a little girl, her mother took her to the home of an old nurse, and there she had brouse to eat, and afterwards for one joyful hour she was allowed to wear the clogs belonging to the nurse's little granddaughter."
"I know what clogs are," said Graham. "They're wooden shoes that make a lot of noise and have brass nails in them." He had looked into the sitting room and was interested in an object there. "What's that?" he asked. "Can't my grandmother walk?"
The maid's eyes followed his finger. "That's a wheel chair," she said. "Your grandmother is not so strong as she was in the summer, so I take her out in the chair when the day is bright. Well, children, go upstairs quietly. Suzanna knows the way to Mrs. Bartlett's room."
So the children on tiptoes mounted the thickly carpeted stairs. At the top Suzanna waited for the others, then went down the hall, paused and knocked softly on the panel to the right, and at the soft invitation to enter, pushed open wide the door.
Drusilla sat within, her chair drawn close to the window. Her hands were lying listlessly in her lap. She looked wilted, a flower fading to its end. She turned to the children and smiled, a very small wistful smile, but it lit her pale delicate face and made Daphne advance confidentially to the middle of the room.
"We came to see you," she said in her winsome way.
"I'm very glad," said Drusilla. "Won't you all come close to me?"
The children obeyed. Drusilla looked inquiringly at Graham, and then said, "Well, my boy, you've grown somewhat."
"Yes, two inches in six months." He wanted to say something to lift the sadness from her face, and at last he blurted out: "I think you're a bully grandmother, and I'm coming often to see you."