Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 9.djvu/118

102 they heard the old lady say in a thin, feeble voice, "Come agin." They might, but she would be missing.

months rolled on with Susanna and her grandfather, and one day was much like another, save in the failing strength of the three old people around her.

Her grandfather rode off occasionally among his patients; but Sorrel was clumsy, and often stumbled, and the doctor was talking of buying a new horse, and of giving Sorrel "his time." Mollie was so feeble that Susanna had talked with her grandfather about having one of the Samson girls come and help Mollie, and learn about the work. The doctor had thought it best, and Patty Samson was in the family. It was like sunshine to hear the young girl's voice singing so gayly, as she skipped up the wide, low stairs. Peter had given up many of his old ways, and was like Sorrel, — stiff and clumsy. Mollie sat by the kitchen fire and jogged herself in a pitiful way; but she said "she didn't think much o' that Samson gal, young 'uns was more plague than profit allus."

When the summer came again, Susanna helped her grandfather in the garden, where he raised many of his herbs. In the sweet summer days she walked with him, and gathered the bright saffron blossoms. At this time he talked with her about her grandmother, and her father and mother. The old man always spoke of his wife with so much tenderness and love, and once only he told of her sickness and death. Tears filled his eyes, dimmed with age, as he went over this scene again. "Your mother was a beautiful woman, Susanna: when James told me that he was going to be married, I felt thankful to have them come home. Mollie was young when your grandmother died, but she did very well. When Mary came, she straightened every thing, and we were so happy. In a little while after you were born, I found that your mother had got to leave us, and I felt that my cup was too full. She lingered along through the winter, and died in May. You were three years old: when you were five, your father died, and you were all I had. I never realized how thankful I was for you until then. When you were eight years old, you had the throat distemper. I had almost given you up. Peter and Mollie worked and watched over you, Susanna; and, when your throat was swollen out even with your face, Peter was nearly crazy. He went down to the spring by the thick hemlocks, and dug through the frozen ground till he found a frog. He brought it up, and sat it on your chest close to your mouth: the frog drew several long breaths, and then toppled over, dead: we thought that it helped your throat." Susanna felt after this talk how good they had all been to her; and, if she could comfort them in their old age, she was glad that she had lived, had loved and lost.

Once in early autumn the doctor walked to the church with Susanna, and this sabbath Mr. Bostwick preached such a comforting sermon; often before Susanna had thought his sermons were cold. He had made God seem unapproachable, not a God to love, but a God to fear; but this day that feeling melted away, and his words floated out from under the sounding-board, and settled like a balm on his listeners. Susanna and her grandfather had many pleasant talks before the fire when the days grew colder, and the doctor had