Her bright, speaking eyes, more brown than gray,
gave charm to a face which might have been pretty had disease not
marred it in youth.
As she drew near, her wonderful eyes looked into our faces and won from
our lips a timid "Good morning, grandma."
That title, which we had been taught to use when speaking to the aged,
was new and sweet to her, who had never been blessed with child. She
set the basket on the ground, put the pail beside it, and caressed us
in a cheery way, then let us peep in and see what she had brought
especially for us. How did it happen? That is something we were to
learn later. Such luxuries,--eggs, bread, butter, cheese, and milk in
the dear little tin pail!
Seeing how thin and hungry we looked she gave each a piece of buttered
bread before going with us to our neighbor's house, where she left the
food, with instructions, in broken English, that it was for us three
little girls who had called her "grandma," and that we must not be
given too much at a time.
When next grandma came she took puny Georgia home with her, and left me
hugging the promise that I also should have a visit, if I would await
my turn patiently.
Who can picture my delight when Georgia got back and told me of all she
had seen? Cows, horses, pigs, and chickens, but most thrilling of all
was about the cross old sheep, which would not let her pass if she did
not carry a big stick in sight.
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