"That is well thought of. I will write you an order."
He wrote something on a paper and handed it to Nelly, who read, "Please let Miss Nelly Ryan have a slate worth twenty-five cents, two pencils, a steel pen and handle, and one quire of ruled foolscap paper."
"That will keep you going for some time," said Mr. Grayson. "Now go and get your things; and tell granny what I say, and make her understand that I am in earnest," he added, laying his hand on Nelly's shoulder. "Remember, I am a man of my word. I have spoken to Vandake; and he will do every thing necessary, at a reasonable rate. Good-by, Nelly."
[CHAPTER VIII.]
AS soon as granny came home, she inquired eagerly as to the result of Nelly's interview with Mr. Grayson. She was by no means pleased with it.
"Sure he might give it to us out and out, and never feel the want of it. And what's the use of laying out good money on the old thing, and we may be going to leave it any time?"
"As to that," said Nelly, "we may leave any place at any time, you know, granny. If we were at Kilmane Park, we shouldn't know whether we were going to stay there. We should be just as likely to die there as here. Mr. Grayson says the house is very good and firm, what there is of it; and thirty dollars will do a good deal towards putting the outside to rights,—mending the windows and the door-step, righting up the fence, and so on. And you will see, when we get it all fixed up, and the garden planted, and all, what a nice, pretty little place it will be."
"And what is the cow to do?" asked Mrs. Ryan. "She will never stand it to be tied up at night."
"I dare say she won't mind it after a little bit; and you know she always stays in the shed at night in winter," said Nelly. "And, anyhow, she will have to try it, if she is going to stay anywhere."
Granny still murmured. She thought they might as well let the place go, and hire a room somewhere. As for Crummie, they could manage somehow, or they could sell her.