r claim to all earthly possessions.
So he was really able to live in comfort; but, instead of that, the
old red farmhouse, which was his father's before him, was a model of
angularity, unadorned and unattractive, both inside and out, only
preserving a decent aspect through Phoebe's thrift and neatness.

Six little ones made music in the old house, save when their father
was there. His presence always seemed to send a chill to their little
warm hearts; for he made them feel that they were "bills of expense,"
and whenever they clamored for pretty things he told them that they
"cost money," and sent them away with a reproof for their desires.

And yet John Lyman claimed that he was _just_. "Don't I pay the
minister two dollars every single year?" he would say when the puzzled
collectors came to him, bank-book in hand. Of course he did; and, if
the reverend gentleman was a smart preacher, he added a peck of beans
to his annual subscription, although this came a little hard when the
harvest was poor. Not being a church member, he didn't feel called to
give to the "heathen," as he was wont to style all benevolent objects
of whatever character; and it was generally understood that the two
dollars were given on grandmother's account.

Dear Grandmother Lyman! Known and loved by everybody in Peltonville,
she was peacemaker, adviser, and, in fact, condensed sunshine in
John's household from January to December. She was a _Christian_, too;
and John was glad of that, for he believed that she and the Bible were
good in case of sickness or death; and, to tell the truth, he had a
vague idea that she would see that he had a place in heaven sometime,
after he had grown old and tired of this world. But Grandmother Lyman
knew better than this; and morning, noon, and night, her prayers
ascended for him, her only remaining child, and his family.

One would suppose that such a mother would have every want supplied,
even by a _penurious_ son. But Oh! the love of gain had so eaten into
John's best affections that it sometimes seemed as if he had forgotten
all claims upon him! So it was very trying to ask a favor of him, and
his mother denied herself many a necessity before doing it.

Something more than usually important troubled her mind, however, on
one bright spring morning as she sat by the kitchen fire. All the
funny little wrinkles in her dear old face, which were generally only
telegraph lines for smiles to run over, were sobered by