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The back door, which had been unintentionally left ajar, flew open, and Jean, who had for the first time in her life heard a word of complaint from her grandparents, or a word from them concerning her mysterious Uncle Joe, burst suddenly into the room and knelt at the feet of her grandmother, her whole frame convulsed with sobs.

"Forgive us, darlings, do!" she cried as soon as she could control her voice to speak. "You Ve borne so much sorrow, and we never knew it! We never meant to be thoughtless or unkind, but I see now how ungrateful we have been. We must have hurt your feelings often."

"Don't cry, Jean," and the thin hand of the grandmother stroked the girl's bright hair, "We don't often repine at our lot. I am sorry you overheard a word."

"But I am not sorry a single bit, grandma. We children have been thoughtless and impudent. I can see it all now. We didn't ever mean to complain, though, about you, or grandpa, or you either, grannie dear. We only meant to draw the line at bachelor great-uncles and meddlesome second and third cousins, who ought to have provided themselves in their youth with homes of their own, as our parents did."

"Do you think they can help themselves hereafter, Jean?"

"Why, of course! The feeling of self-dependence will make 'em young and strong again,—though they don't deserve good treatment, for they ought to have had homes and families of their own in their youth, as you did."

"It's too late to lodge a complaint of that kind against them now, Jean," said the grandmother, with a smile.

"Did you overhear all we were talking about? "asked the grandfather, his head bowed upon his cane.

"I am afraid I did, grandpa. I was cleaning the slush from my shoes, and I couldn't help overhearing.