near us all," finished the Bishop, blandly.

"Ess fay. I can wield a broom," said Granfa. "And 'twill be a noble end for
me to pass my days in such a holy spot. 'Twill be but a short jump from
there fair into Heaven itself, and I do thank 'ee, parson, with all my
heart."

So it was settled, and turned out excellently. Even Mary Ellen could have
learned from Granfa new ways of handling a broom with the least exertion to
the worker; aye, in his hands, the broom seemed used chiefly as a support;
a staff, upon which he leant while telling us many a tale of those rare old
smuggling days of his youth.

Sometimes, in dim unused parts of the building, we would rig up a pirate's
ship, and Granfa would fix the broom to the masthead to show that he, like
Drake, had swept the seas.

Sometimes, indeed, we found him fast asleep in a corner of some
crimson-cushioned pew, looking so peaceful that, rough sea-going fellows
though we were, we had not the heart to rouse him.

Once, standing before the stained glass window in memory of young Cosmo
John, Granfa said:

"It beats all how thiccy lad does yearn toward me. His eyes follow me
wherever I go."

"And no wonder, Granfa," cried The Seraph, throwing his arms around him,
"for everybody loves 'ee so!"

_Chapter VIII: Noblesse Oblige_

I

Angel and I grew amazingly that summer. We grew in length of limb but with
no corresponding gain in scholastic stature. We had made up our minds to
retain as little as possible of Mrs. Handsomebody's teaching and we had
succeeded so well in our purpose, that, at nine and ten we had about as
much book-learning as would have befitted The Seraph, while he retained the
serene ignorance of babyhood. But in affairs of the imagination we were no
laggards. We eagerly drank in Granfa's tales of the sea, and Harry lent us
many a hair-raising book of adventure.

Yet we longed for the companionship of other boys of our own age, and
strained towards the day when we should go to school. Our abounding energy
chafed more and more under the rule of Mrs. Handsomebody.

Now she had left the schoolroom to interview a plumber, and her black
bombazine dress having sailed away like a cloud, we had utterly relaxed,
and were basking in the sunshine of her absence.

Slumped on my spine, I was watching a spider, just over my head, that was
leisurely ascending his shining rope-ladder to the ceiling. I contemplated
his powers of retreat with an almost bitter e