as content to cumber the earth and to
wait for the long sleep. To them she was simply one who tarries and is
content. Scattergood looked into her sharp, old eyes, eyes that were
capable of sudden gleams of humor or flashes of anger, and he _knew_. He
knew that death seemed as distant to Grandmother Penny as it had seemed
fifty years ago. He knew that her interest in life was as keen, her
yearning to participate in the affairs of life as strong, as they had
been when Grandfather Penny--now long gone to his reward--had driven his
horse over the hills with one hand while he utilized the other arm for
more important and delightful purposes.

Scattergood was remembering his own grandmother. He had known her as no
other living soul had known her, because she had been his boyhood
intimate, his defender, always his advocate, and because the boyish love
which he had given her had made his eyes keen to perceive. His parents
had fancied Grandma Baines to be content when she was in constant
revolt. They had supposed that life meant nothing more to her now than
to sit in a comfortable rocker and to knit interminable stockings and to
remember past years. Scattergood knew that the present compelled her
interest and that the future thrilled her. She wanted to participate in
life, to be in the midst of events--to continue to live so long as the
power of movement and of perception remained to her. He was now able to
see that the old lady had done much to mold his character, and as he
recalled incident after incident his face wore a softer, more melancholy
expression than Coldriver was wont to associate with it. He was
regretting that in his thoughtless youth he had failed to accomplish
more to make gladder his grandmother's few remaining years.

"I calc'late," said Scattergood to himself--but aloud--"that I'll kind
of substitute Grandmother Penny for Grandma Baines--pervidin' Grandma
Baines is fixed so's she kin see; more'n likely she'll understand what
I'm up to, and it'll tickle her--I'm goin' to up and borrow me a
grandmother."

He wriggled his toes and considered. What thing had his grandmother most
desired?

"Independence was what she craved," he said, and considered the point.
"She didn't want to be beholdin' to folks. She wanted to be fixed so's
she could do as she pleased, and nobody to interfere. I calc'late if
Grandma Baines 'd 'a' been left alone she'd 'a' found her another
husband and they'd 'a' had a home of their own wi