“Yours is a high privilege,” she said, “to dwell so near to heaven.”
She looked back to the house and kissed her hand to it; then beckoned, and a fine carriage came up and she drove away. I never knew who she was.
I found Grandmother sitting quietly with her knitting, by the empty cradle.
“What did you say to that lady, Grandmother?” I asked, though I knew next moment I should not have done it.
“I told her an old lesson, my dear,” said Grandmother; “a lesson I learned long ago.”
Once it was Saturday Nelly who came; Nelly, now grown a woman—if it could be called growing.
“Grandmother,” she said, “look at me, and tell me what you see.”
Grandmother looked into the pale drawn face with its strange eyes.
“Nelly dear,” she said, “I see a face that I love, a face full of truth and goodness.”