finished, the day before the holidays, the school in
a body wiped its feet on the door-mat and tiptoed through on a last
visit of inspection. The cottage contained three rooms, with a cellar
and woodshed besides. The wall paper and chintz hangings of the parlor
were flaming pink peonies with a wealth of foliage--a touch of
flamboyant for some tastes, but Granpa's and Gramma's eyes were failing,
and they liked strong colors. Also, crafty questioning had elicited the
fact that "pinies" were Gramma's favorite flower. The kitchen had
turkey-red curtains with a cheerful strip of rag carpet and two
comfortable easy chairs before the hearth. The cellar was generously
stocked from the school farm--Miss Sallie's contribution--with potatoes
and cabbages and carrots and onions, enough to make Irish stew for three
months to come. The woodbin was filled, and even a five-gallon can of
kerosene. Sixty-four pairs of eyes had scanned the rooms minutely to
make sure that no essential was omitted.

Both the Murphy and Flannigan households had been agog for days over the
proposed flitting of the pair. Even Mrs. Tammas had volunteered to wash
the windows of the new cottage, and for a week she had scarcely been
cross. The old man was already wondering at life. When the time arrived,
Mrs. Murphy secretly packed Gramma's belongings and dressed her in her
best, under the pretext that she was to be taken in a carriage to a
Christmas party to have supper with her husband. The old woman was in a
happy flutter at the prospect. Granpa was prepared for the journey by
the same simple strategy.

Patty and Conny and Priscilla, as originators of the enterprise, had
been appointed to install the old couple; but with tactful forbearance,
they delegated the right to the son and daughter. They saw that the
fires were burning, the lamps lighted, and the cat--there was even a
cat--asleep on the hearth rug; then when the sound of carriage wheels in
front told them that Martin had arrived with his passengers, they
quietly slipped out the back way and jogged home to dinner through the
snowy dusk.

They were met by a babel of questions.

"Was Gramma pleased with the parlor clock?"

"Did she know what to do with the chaffing-dish?"

"Were they disappointed at not having a feather bed?"

"Did they like the cat, or would they rather have had a parrot?" (The
school had been torn asunder on this important point.)

At the dinner table that night--such of the sc