lked out, and she took me into the kitchen and made me
help her. By and by she went into the pantry for somethin' and when she
came out she said: "Do you like blackberry pie, Skeet?" "Yes'm," I said.
"Well, I guess you do--and you like milk, too. And now you go down to
the cellar and get another crock of milk--do you hear? And if I hadn't
put the other pies in the cupboard in the dining room, there'd be no pie
for dinner." "No, grandma, we wouldn't eat more'n one--Mitch and I
wouldn't, honest we wouldn't."

Mitch came in, then, and grandma looked at him kind of close and
laughed, and asked him if he was goin' to be a preacher like his pa.
Well, a funny thing came out. Mr. Miller had preached at Concord that
morning, and grandma began to talk about the sermon and say it was the
most beautiful she ever heard. Pretty soon she went out of the room for
somethin', and Mitch said: "She's the livin' image of Aunt Polly--and so
she should be my grandma and not yours; for I'm Tom if anybody is, even
if you're not much like Huck."

Then we had dinner, and Mitch was readin' that novel while eatin', and
grandma kept sayin', "Eat your dinner, Mitch." He did eat, but he was
behind the rest of us.

We helped grandma with the dishes. Then she said, "You boys clear out
while I take a rest. And after while I'll show you some things." She
always took a nap after dinner, lying on a little couch under the two
windows in the settin' room, where the fire-place was, and the old
clock, and the mahogany chest that had come from North Carolina, given
her by her grandmother, and her red-bird in a cage. Grandpa always fell
asleep in his chair while reading the Petersburg _Observer_, which came
the day before.

So Mitch and I walked through the orchard, and when we came back, I
showed him the carriage with glass windows and the blue silk curtain;
and the white horses which grandpa always drove. But we didn't put in
the time very well, because we wanted grandma to wake up.

We went in the house at last, and they were talking together. I heard
grandpa say something about Doc Lyon. We'd almost forgot that by now.
But when we came in the room, grandma said, "Well, here you are," and
went over and got out her drawer that had her trinkets in it. She had
the greatest lot of pictures in rubber cases you ever saw; soldiers
which were dead, and folks who had married and moved away or had died;
and a watch which belonged to her son who was drowned before M