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muddy liquid made dirty pools wherever his feet pressed the polished floor.

"You're right, father; we 've lived long enough," sighed the feeble mother of many children, following her husband's footprints with mop and broom.

"If you and John think you 've lived long enough, what do you think of me? "cried the great-grandmother, who had passed her fourscore years and ten, but who still amply supported herself (if only she and the rest of the family had thought so) as she sat from early morning till late at night in her corner, knitting, always knitting.

"Never mind, grannie," said her son, swallowing a lump that rose unbidden in his throat. "You 've as good a right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as any fellow that ever put his name to a Declaration of Independence! There'll be room for you in the cosiest corner of this little house as long as there's a corner for anybody. Don't worry."

"But this state of things isn't just or fair!" exclaimed the wife, folding her last bit of mending and dropping back into her chair. "It seems to me that we, as parents, deserve a better fate in our old days than any set of bachelor hangers-on on earth, who 've never had anybody but themselves to provide for. If Joseph would only come back, or the good Lord would let us know his fate, I could endure the rest."

"There, there, mother! Not another word. Haven't I forbidden the mention of his name?"

"But he was our darling, father. I can't dismiss him from my thoughts as you say you can."

"We must keep the grandchildren in ignorance of his existence, wife. It's bad enough in all conscience for the stain of his misguided life to rest on older heads. We must forget our unfortunate son."

"I can never forget my bonnie boy,—not even to obey you, father!"