GRAN’&MA_ GRACIE.

the fireplace, gravely lifted the slipper, and poured Buzz out on to the hearth-
rug, replaced the slipper where it would warm, and went back, to find, five
minutes later, that the kitten had fitted himself into the other slipper, with
only his back visible, ready to be poured out again. Then, in a half-sulky,
cattish way, Buzz would go and seat himself on his square cushion, and watch,
while, to guard them from any more such intrusions, Gran’ma picked up the
slippers and held them to her breast until such time as her father came home.

Those were joyous times at the old house, till one day there was a report
spread in the village that little Gran’ma was ill. The doctor’s carriage was
seen every day at the gate, and then twice a day, and there were sorrow and
despair where all had been so happy. Dinny went alone with Grant to feed
the rabbits: and there were no more joyous rushes round the garden, for the
dog would lie down on the doorstep with his head between his paws, and watch
there all day, and listen for the quiet little footstep that never came. Every
day old John, the gardener, brought up a bunch of flowers for the little child
lying fevered and weak, with nothing that would cool her burning head, and
three anxious faces were constantly gazing for the change that they prayed
might come.

For the place seemed no longer the same without those pattering feet.
Cook had been found crying in a chair in the kitchen; and when asked why,
she said it was because Grant had howled in the night, and she knew now that
dear little Gran'ma would never be seen walking so sedately round the garden
again.

lt was of no use to tell her that Grant had howled because he was miserable
at not seeing his little mistress: she said she knew better.

“Don’t tell me,” she cried; “look at him.” And she pointed to where
the dog had just gone down to the gate, fora carriage had stopped, and the
dog, after meeting the doctor, walked up behind him to the house, waited till
he came out, and then walked down behind him to the gate, saw him go, and
came back to lie down in his old place on the step, with his head between his
paws.

They said that they could not get Grant to eat, and it was quite true, for the
little hands which fed him were not there ; and the house was very mournful and
still, even Dinny having ceased to shout and laugh, for they told her she
must be very quiet, because Gran’ma was so ill.

From that hour Dinny went about the place like a mouse, and her favorite