grandfather

GRANDFATHER had been sitting in his old arm-chair all that pleasant afternoon, while the children were pursuing their various sports far off or near at hand, Sometimes you would have said, "Grandfather is asleep;" hut still, even when his eyes were closed, his thoughts were with the young people, playing among the flowers and shrubbery of the garden.

And though' Grandfather was old and gray-haired, yet his heart leaped with joy whenever little Alice came fluttering, like a butterfly, into the room.

So they came into the room together, anti clustered round Grandfather's great chair.

"Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her head back upon his arm, "I am very tired now.

"That is not what story-tellers like," answered Grandfather, smiling.

And pray, Grandfather, tell us a story about this strange-looking old chair."

Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was made of oak, which had grown dark with age, but had been rubbed and polished till it shone as bright as mahogany.

The children had seen Grandfather sitting in this chair ever since they could remember anything.

Grandfather came down, wearing a white shirt and his Sunday coat.

Jake and Otto joined us from the basement and we sat about the stove, enjoying the deepening grey of the winter afternoon and the atmosphere of comfort and security in my grandfather's house.

His long body formed a letter `S.' I saw grandmother look apprehensively at grandfather. He was rather narrow in religious matters, and sometimes spoke out and hurt people's feelings.

As we turned back to the sitting-room, grandfather looked at me searchingly.