is old arm-chair, all that pleasant
afternoon, while the children were pursuing their various sports, far off
or near at hand. Sometimes you would have said, "Grandfather is asleep;"
but still, even when his eyes were closed, his thoughts were with the
young people, playing among the flowers and shrubbery of the garden.

He heard the voice of Laurence, who had taken possession of a heap of
decayed branches which the gardener had lopped from the fruit trees, and
was building a little hut for his cousin Clara and himself. He heard
Clara's gladsome voice, too, as she weeded and watered the flower-bed
which had been given her for her own. He could have counted every footstep
that Charley took, as he trundled his wheelbarrow along the gravel walk.
And though Grandfather was old and gray-haired, yet his heart leaped with
joy whenever little Alice came fluttering, like a butterfly, into the
room. She had made each of the children her playmate in turn, and now made
Grandfather her playmate too, and thought him the merriest of them all.

At last the children grew weary of their sports; because a summer
afternoon is like a long lifetime to the young. So they came into the room
together, and clustered round Grandfather's great chair. Little Alice, who
was hardly five years old, took the privilege of the youngest, and climbed
his knee. It was a pleasant thing to behold that fair and golden-haired
child in the lap of the old man, and to think that, different as they
were, the hearts of both could be gladdened with the same joys.

"Grandfather," said little Alice, laying her head back upon his arm, "I am
very tired now. You must tell me a story to make me go to sleep."

"That is not what story-tellers like," answered Grandfather, smiling.
"They are better satisfied when they can keep their auditors awake."

"But here are Laurence, and Charley, and I," cried cousin Clara, who was
twice as old as little Alice. "We will all three keep wide awake. And
pray, Grandfather, tell us a story about this strange-looking old chair."

Now, the chair in which Grandfather sat was made of oak, which had grown
dark with age, but had been rubbed and polished till it shone as bright as
mahogany. It was very large and heavy, and had a back that rose high above
Grandfather's white head. This back was curiously carved in open work, so
as to represent flowers and foliage and other devices; which the children
had often gazed at, but could never understand