As they sat enfolding her in loving glances, Grandma occasionally spoke in low, short sentences, mostly relating to the river.
“I was born by it—it has been a friend to me. Children, you will all live by the river.”
Upon arriving opposite Bobbetty’s Island, Grandma smiled. Berty’s tramp, Mafferty, in a decent suit of clothes, stood on a rock, surrounded by a number of handsome, dignified cats, who sat or stood beside him like so many dogs. As they passed he waved them a respectful greeting with one of Tom’s discarded hats.
“You will not give him up,” said Grandma to Tom. “You will not become discouraged.”
“I will not,” he said, solemnly.
CHAPTER XXV.
LAST WORDS
“The sun has gone down,” said Margaretta, suddenly.
It had indeed. The huge golden ball had just dropped behind the hills on the western side of the river.