The Forerunner Part 163

"And she as rich as a Jew!" Sarah went on. "And never spendin' a cent!

And the Doctor workin' night and day!"--

Then Mama came in and this bit of conversation naturally came to an end.

A busy, quiet, sweet little woman was Mama; and small Josie flew into her arms and cuddled there most happily.

"Mama Dearest," she said, "How long is it to Christmas? Can I get my mat done for Grandma? And _do_ you think she'll like it?"

"Well, well dear--that's three _questions!_ It's two weeks yet to Christmas; and I think you can if you work steadily; and I hope she'll like it."

"And Mama--can I have my party?"

"I'm afraid not, dearest. You see Grandma is old, and she hates a noise and confusion--and parties are expensive. I'm sorry, childie. Can't you think of something else you want, that Mother can give you?"

"No," said the child, "I've wanted a party for three years, Mama!

Grandma just spoils everything!"

"No, no, dear--you must always love Grandma because she is dear Papa's mother; and because she is lonely and needs our love.

"We'll have a party some day, Dearest--don't feel badly. And _we_ always have a good time together, don't we?"

They did; but just now the child's heart was set on more social pleasures, and she went sadly back to her playroom to work on that mat for Grandma.

It was a busy day. Mama's married sister came to see her, and the child was sent out of the room. Two neighbors called, and waited, chatting, some time before Mama came down.

Grandma's doctor--who was not Papa--called; and her lawyer too; and they had to wait some time for the old lady to dress as she thought fitting.

But Grandma's doctor and lawyer were very old friends, and seemed to enjoy themselves.

The minister came also, not Grandma's minister, who was old and thin and severe and wore a long white beard; but Mama's minister, who was so vigorous and cheerful, and would lift Josephine way up over his head--as if she was ten years old. But Mama sent her out of the room this time, which was a pity.

To be sure Josephine had a little secret trail from her playroom door--behind several pieces of furniture--right up to the back of the sofa where people usually sat, but she was not often interested in their conversation. She was a quiet child, busy with her own plans and ideas; playing softly by herself, with much imaginary conversation. She set up her largest doll, a majestic personage known as "The Lady Isobel," and talked to her.

"Why is my Grandma so horrid? And why do I have to love her? How can you love people--if you don't, Lady Isobel?

"Other girls' Grandmas are nice. Nelly Elder's got a lovely Grandma!

She lets Nelly have parties and everything. Maybe if Grandma likes my mat she'll--be pleasanter.

"Maybe she'll go somewhere else to live--sometime. Don't you think so, Lady Isobel?"

The Lady Isobel's reply, however, was not recorded.

Grandma pursued her pious way as usual, till an early bedtime relieved the family of her presence. Then Uncle Harry stopped puttering with his machines and came out to be sociable with his sister. If Papa was at home they would have a game of solo--if not, they played cribbage, or quiet.

Uncle Harry was the life of the household--when Grandma wasn't around.

"Well, Lulu," he said cheerfully, "What's the prospect? Can Joe make it?"

"No," said Mama. "It's out of the question. He could arrange about his practice easily enough but it's the money for the trip. He'll have to send his paper to be read."

"It's a shame!" said the young man, "He ought to be there. He'd do those other doctors good. Why in the name of reason don't the old lady give him the money--she could, easy enough."

"Joe never'll ask her for a cent," answered Mrs. Grey, "and it would never occur to her to give him one! Yet I think she loves him best of all her children."

"Huh! _Love!_" said Uncle Harry.

Grandma didn't sleep well at night. She complained of this circ.u.mstantially and at length.

"Hour after hour I hear the clock strike," she said. "Hour after hour!"

Little Josephine had heard the clock strike hour after hour one terrible night when she had an earache. She was really sorry for Grandma.

"And nothing to take up my mind," said Grandma, as if her mind was a burden to her.

But the night after this she had something to take up her mind. As a matter of fact it woke her up, as she had napped between the clock's strikings. At first she thought the servants were in her room--and realized with a start that they were speaking of her.

"Why she must live with 'em I don't see--she has daughters of her own--"

With the interest of an eavesdropper she lay still, listening, and heard no good of herself.

"How long is it to Christmas?" she presently heard her grandchild ask, and beg her mother for the "party"--still denied her.

"Grandma spoils everything!" said the clear childish voice, and the mother's gentle one urged love and patience.

It was some time before the suddenly awakened old lady, in the dark, realized the source of these voices--and then she could not locate it.

"It's some joke of that young man's" she said grimly--but the joke went on.

It was Mrs. Grey's sister now, condoling with her about this mother-in-law.

"Why do you have to put up with it Louise? Won't any of her daughters have her?"

"I'm afraid they don't want her," said Louise's gentle voice. "But Joe is her son, and of course he feels that his home is his mother's. I think he is quite right. She is old, and alone--she doesn't _mean_ to be disagreeable."

"Well, she achieves it without effort, then! A more disagreeable old lady I never saw, Louise, and I'd like nothing better than to tell her so!"

The old lady was angry, but impressed. There is a fascination in learning how others see us, even if the lesson is unpleasant. She heard the two neighbors who talked together before Mama came down, and their talk was of her--and of how they pitied young Mrs. Grey.

"If I was in her shoes," said the older of the two, "I'd pick up and travel! She's only sixty-five--and sound as a nut."

"Has she money enough?" asked the other.

"My, yes! Money to burn! She has her annuity that her father left her, and a big insurance--and house rents. She must have all of three thousand a year."

"And doesn't she pay board here?"