“We will see,” said he aloud.
Then he read a chapter in his Bible and went to bed.
On Saturday gran’pap and the children went chestnutting. Their luck was amazing. After enough chestnuts had been reserved to supply the family’s most extensive needs, there were ten quarts to be sold. With the money they bought ten spools of thread for Susan.
“You’ll get more for your work if you don’t have to pay your money for thread,” said gran’pap.
Susan gave a little gasp. One who did not know her might have thought that she was about to cry. But Susan never cried.
“You oughtn’t to have spent your money for me,” she said.
If gran’pap was disappointed or grieved because Susan had said that the children could have no Christmas, he did not show it. He kept the wood-box full, he drove Mooley along the roadside to find a little late grass, and he heard the children say their lessons. When he was not thus occupied, he was in his little shop across the yard. Thither he had brought from his old home a jig-saw, a small turning lathe, and sundry other carpenter tools. He had here a little stove, and here on stormy days he worked. On pleasant days he made repairs to the house and barn, so that they should be winter-tight.
“The squirrels have thick coats,” said he. “Look out for cold weather!”
As a matter of fact, gran’pap disregarded entirely his daughter’s prohibition. When the children were at school and late at night, gran’pap was at work. He carved the animals for the garden and made the little houses and the cradle and the chessboard, and he gilded walnuts and hickory nuts to hang upon the tree, and popped the corn to make the little balls for the finishing of each branch. It was a long task; gran’pap often sat up half the night. Sometimes he worked in hope, sometimes in despair.
“When she sees it in its grandeur, she will feel different,” said he when he was hopeful.