XXV
"There's a train every half-hour," Chester said.
"Yes, but the day-laborer must be home early."
On the train--"Well," the youth urged, "your grand'mère stayed in the old home, I hope, with the three children--and Sidney?"
"Only till she could sell it. But that was nearly three years, and they were hard, those three. But at last, by the help of that Royal Street coterie--who were good friends, Mr. Chester, when friends were scarce--she sold both house and furniture--what was by that time remaining--and bought that place where we are now living."
"Was there no life-insurance?"
"A little. We have the yearly interest on it still. 'Tis very small, yet a great help--to my aunts. I tell that only to say that papa would never touch it when he and my aunts--and afterward mamma--were in very narrow places."
Chester perceived another reason for the telling of it; the niece wanted to escape the credit of being the sole support of her aunts. She read his thought but ignored it.
"Papa was very old for his age," she continued. "You may see that by his being in the battle with grandpère at thirteen years. And because of that precocity he got much training of the mind--and spirit--from grandpère that usually is got much later. I think that is what my aunts mean when they tell you papa's life was dramatic. It was so, yet not in the manner they mean, the manner of grandpère's life; you understand?"