shillings a
week all his life, and earned it by working every hour between sunrise
and sunset," Betty said to her sister, when she went home. "A man has
one life, and his has passed like that. It is done now, and all the
years and work have left nothing in his old hands but his pipe. That's
all. I should not like to put it out for him. Who am I that I can buy
him a new one, and keep it filled for him until the end? How did it
happen? No," suddenly, "I must not lose time in asking myself that. I
must get the new pipe."

She did it--a pipe of great magnificence--such as drew to the Doby
cottage as many callers as the village could provide, each coming with
fevered interest, to look at it--to be allowed to hold and examine it
for a few moments, guessing at its probable enormous cost, and returning
it reverently, to gaze at Doby with respect--the increase of which can
be imagined when it was known that he was not only possessor of the
pipe, but of an assurance that he would be supplied with as much tobacco
as he could use, to the end of his days. From the time of the advent
of the pipe, Grandfather Doby became a man of mark, and his life in the
chimney corner a changed thing. A man who owns splendours and unlimited,
excellent shag may like friends to drop in and crack jokes--and even
smoke a pipe with him--a common pipe, which, however, is not amiss when
excellent shag comes free.

"He lives in a wild whirl of gaiety--a social vortex," said Betty to
Lady Anstruthers, after one of her visits. "He is actually rejuvenated.
I must order some new white smocks for him to receive his visitors in.
Someone brought him an old copy of the Illustrated London News last
night. We will send him illustrated papers every week."

In the dull old brain, God knows what spark of life had been relighted.
Young Mrs. Doby related with chuckles that granddad had begged that his
chair might be dragged to the window, that he might sit and watch the
village street. Sitting there, day after day, he smoked and looked at
his pictures, and dozed and dreamed, his pipe and tobacco jar beside
him on the window ledge. At any sound of wheels or footsteps his face
lighted, and if, by chance, he caught a glimpse of Betty, he tottered
to his feet, and stood hurriedly touching his bald forehead with a
reverent, palsied hand.

"'Tis 'urr," he would say, enrapt. "I seen 'urr--I did." And young Mrs.
Doby knew that this was his joy, and what he waited for as one