and bars in front look cheery and sparkling, and then the
indispensable bellows are a delightful invention for fidgety fingers
like those of Ralph and Molly. How many new "nozzles" grandmother had to
pay for her poor bellows that winter I should really be afraid to say!
And once, to Molly's indescribable consternation, the bellows got on fire
_inside_; there was no outward injury to be seen, but they smoked
alarmingly, and internal crackings were to be heard of a fearful and
mysterious description. Molly flew to the kitchen, and flung the bellows,
as if they were alive, into a pan of water that stood handy. Doubtless
the remedy was effectual so far as extinguishing the fire was concerned,
but as for the after result on the constitution of the poor bellows I
cannot report favourably, as they were never again fit to use. _And_, as
this was the fourth pair spoilt in a month, Molly was obliged to give up
half her weekly money for some time towards replacing them!

But we are wandering away from the talk by the fire--grandmother and
aunty in their low chairs working--the three children lying in various
attitudes on the hearthrug, for hearthrug there was, seldom as such
superfluities are to be seen at Chalet. Grandmother was too "English" to
have been satisfied with her pretty drawing-room without one--a nice
fluffy, flossy one, which the children were so fond of burrowing in that
grandmother declared she would need a new one by the time the winter was
over!

"_Can't_ you tell it to us to-night then, grandmother dear?" said Molly.

"I would rather think it over a little first," said grandmother. "You
forget, Molly, that old people's memories are not like young ones. And,
as Marie says, it is very curious how, the older one gets, the further
back things are those that one remembers the most distinctly. The middle
part of my life is hazy compared with the earlier part. I can remember
the patterns of some of my dresses as a _very_ little girl--I can
remember words said and trifling things done fifty years ago better than
little things that happened last month."

"How queer!" said Molly. "Shall we all be like that, grandmother dear,
when we get old?"

Grandmother laid down her knitting and looked at the children with a soft
smile on her face.

"Yes, dears, I suppose so. It is the 'common lot.' I remember once asking
_my_ grandmother a question very like that."

"_Your_ grandmother!" exclaimed all the children--Molly addin