ith the money they bought a tiny
home in a country suburb, and came every day to their work on the
cars. There they live nicely now, and Molly often goes to see them.
They have been advanced to fine positions and are prosperous and
happy.

* * * * *

When the story was ended, Kristy drew a long sigh. "That was splendid!
was it true? How I should like to see Molly's play-room."

"Yes, it is true; but you can never see it," said her mother, "for the
next year the store was built up a story or two higher, and the
play-house on the roof was no more."

"There's the lunch bell," said Kristy, "will you tell me some more
after lunch?"

"Dear me, Kristy," said her mother, with a sigh, "you are certainly
incorrigible; don't you _ever_ get tired of stories?"

"Never!" said Kristy emphatically; "I could listen to stories all day
and all night too, I guess."

Mrs. Crawford hesitated; Kristy went on.

"Won't you tell me stories as long as it rains?"

"Well, yes," began Mrs. Crawford, who had noted signs of clearing. But
Kristy interrupted, shouting, "It's a bargain! it's a bargain! you
said yes! Now let's go to lunch; I'm in a hurry to begin the next
story."

"Well," said Mrs. Crawford, when they returned to the sitting-room
after lunch, "if I'm to tell stories all day, you certainly should do
something, too; it isn't fair for me to do all the work."

"I will," said Kristy laughing; "I'll listen."

"Do you call that work?" asked her mother.

"N--o!" said Kristy, thinking a moment. "Well, I'll tell you! I'll get
my knitting;" and she ran out of the room and in a minute or two came
back with some wool and needles with a very little strip of knitting,
all done up in a clean towel. She had set out to knit a
carriage-blanket for a baby she was fond of, but she found it slow
work, for as soon as she became interested in anything else the
knitting was forgotten. Now she took her seat in a low chair and began
to knit. "Now begin," she said, as her mother took up her sewing.

"Did I ever tell you, Kristy, how I learned to knit?"

"No," said Kristy; "I suppose your mother taught you."

"She did not. I was taught by my grandmother, my father's mother, one
winter that I spent with her, when my mother was ill."

"Wasn't your grandmother very queer?" asked Kristy. "Did she look like
that picture in your room?"

"Yes; that's a good likeness, but she wasn't exactly queer. She was a
very fine wom