Part 163 (1/2)

”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?”