Grandma’s grandson painted the letters there; he was going to be an artist if he had lived; but he didn’t: and she hasn’t any relations in the world. At last I said, “Wouldn’t you like a cup of tea, Grandma?” How I did hope she would say she couldn’t think of drinking a drop of tea, nor eating a mouthful, and that all she wanted was to be left alone. But she didn’t; she smiled on me and said: “I do feel pretty faint, Emmie, and if you could give me a bite of your mother’s tea roll I’ll try to eat it, but I haven’t any tea in the house.”
Well, of course there wasn’t any use in standing there and trying to make believe that because I had on my best dress I ought not to work; I knew well enough that mamma would rather have the dress spoiled than to have Grandma Dunlap suffer, so I just told her that I would go out to the corner grocery and get a little tea and come back and make her a cup right away. I didn’t know people ever bought less than a pound of tea at a time, so I got a whole pound, and it cost a whole dollar. Did you know, girls, that good tea was so expensive? I never was so astonished in my life. Then I found out that there wasn’t any butter nor sugar; and I knew mamma cooked a fresh egg for people when they couldn’t eat much; and I bought a dozen at the grocery that the man said had just come from the country, and they were forty-five cents a dozen; it must cost a great deal of money to keep house; I had no idea what an expensive thing it was. Just the few things which I had to get for Grandma Dunlap, cost two dollars and sixty-seven cents! Butter, it seems, is very expensive stuff, too. The grocer sent the things right away, and I hurried back, and turned up the skirt of my dress, and put on a great gingham apron of Grandma’s and made the fire, and filled the little tea-kettle, and while it was making up its mind to boil, I swept and dusted the room; then I made Grandma just a lovely piece of toast, for mamma had sent a loaf of bread, as well as the tea rolls, and cooked her an egg, and made her a beautiful cup of tea; then I fed her, and she said she believed she never had had anything so good in her life before. Then I had to wash up the dishes, and put everything in order, and fix Grandma’s bed, and bring in some wood, and go over to Mrs. Barker’s to ask if Jane, when she came from the factory, would mind coming over and spending the night, and by the time I had reached home, Aunt Helen had been, and got back; just as I knew she would be; and mamma said: “Why, child, what in the world kept you so? I was beginning to be frightened.” They laughed at me a little, when I told my story, for buying a whole pound of tea, and two pounds of butter; but mamma said I did right, of course, not to think about my dress when there was work which ought to be done: and she sent word to papa to have our doctor go around and see Grandma, and said as soon as she could leave Baby in the morning, she would go herself.
And, girls, that’s the whole of the story; I have none of the beautiful things to tell, because I spent more than half my money, and I can’t do them now; and besides, Aunt Helen doesn’t go away down town shopping very often.
So my plans are all upset, but some way I don’t feel so very badly about it; though I would have liked ever so much to try how those seeds I had in mind, would grow; maybe I can try some of them some other time.
There is just a little bit more: at first I thought I wouldn’t tell you, but I believe I will. Grandma Dunlap said a very strange and sweet thing to me just as I was going away. She asked me to bend down so she could kiss me, and then she said, “You have given the Lord Jesus a beautiful supper to-night, Emmie.”
At first I was frightened; I thought she did not know what she was saying, but she looked at me with smiling eyes, and said: “You don’t know what I mean? Didn’t you know there was a lovely ‘inasmuch’ in his Book for you? Find it when you go home, Emmie.”
I found what I think she meant. Do you girls know the verse? “Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye did it unto me.” Not that Grandma Dunlap is one of the “least,” she is a dear, sweet old lady that anybody might be glad to help, but I am sure that was what she meant; and it made me not care very much about the rest. This isn’t much of a story; it is only to explain to you why I have no story to tell.
If I ever should do any of the nice things I planned, I’ll tell you about them. Until then, you must “take the will for the deed.”
Your loving schoolmate,
Emmeline Morrow.
