nd live on bread and water if it would
do him a bit of good."

'"Take care you don't love him too much," says doctor, looking quite
grave; "folks mustn't make idols even of their own bairns. Don't be
offended, missis," he says, "but it doesn't do to set your heart too
much on anything, not even on your own little lad: you might lose him,
you know."

'Well, I was huffy with doctor after that; I was a bit put out, and I
says, "Well, doctor, if I thought I was going to lose him I would love
him a hundred times better than ever." So, my dear, doctor shook his
head at me and went away, and (would you believe it!) only five hours
after I had to send for him all in a hurry to come to _my_ child. He'd
taken a fit like Jacky had; but oh! my dear, he didn't come out of it as
Jacky did; it was a sore, sore fit, and before doctor could get to
him--and he ran all the way from the village--my bonny bairn was gone.'

'Oh, grandmother, you _would_ feel that,' said Poppy's mother.

'Yes, my dear, I did indeed; and when bedtime came, and he had _his_
child laid aside him, and _my_ child was laid dead in the best room
downstairs, I felt as if my heart would break. He wanted me to take
_his_ child, but little Jacky was used to father, and wouldn't come to
me, and, my dear, I cried myself to sleep.'

'And how much longer did the other baby live, grandmother?' said Poppy.

'Only fifteen days, my dear, and we buried 'em both in one little
grave,--I often go to look at it now;--and when we put _his_ child in,
and I saw my child's little coffin at the bottom of the grave, my dear,
I wished I could go in too.

'I was very hard and rebellious, ay, I was, I see it all now,' said
grandmother, wiping her eyes. 'But just to think of God giving 'em back
to me after five-and-forty years! Why, it's wonderful,' said the old
woman in a cheerful voice. '"Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not
all His benefits." That's the verse for me, my dear, now, isn't it?'

And grandmother took up first Enoch and then Elijah, and kissed them and
hugged them as lovingly as ever she had kissed her own little babies.

CHAPTER IX.

JOHN HENRY'S BAIRN.

I have read the story of a fairy who came down into a dark and dismal
room, where a poor girl clad in rags was cleaning the fireside, and who,
by one touch of her wand, changed everything in the room; the girl found
herself dressed in a beautiful robe, and everything around her was made
lovely and ple