II-XIII

I noticed one afternoon that grandmother
had been crying. Her feet seemed to drag as
she moved about the house, and I got up
from the table where I was studying and went
to her, asking if she didn't feel well, and if I
couldn't help her with her work.

"No, thank you, Jim. I'm troubled, but
I guess I'm well enough. Getting a little rusty
in the bones, maybe," she added bitterly.

I stood hesitating. "What are you fretting
about, grandmother? Has grandfather lost
any money?"

"No, it ain't money. I wish it was. But I've
heard things. You must 'a' known it would
come back to me sometime." She dropped
into a chair, and covering her face with her
apron, began to cry. "Jim," she said, "I was
never one that claimed old folks could bring
up their grandchildren. But it came about so;
there wasn't any other way for you, it seemed
like."

I put my arms around her. I couldn't bear
to see her cry.

[[258]]

p257 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p258w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p259

v?