r team I put in de parn lass
night. Come in. Preckfuss is retty."

* * * * *

I left it to Virginia--she had been so sensible and wise in all her
words since we had agreed to be married at once--to tell the elder and
Grandma Thorndyke about it. But she went to pieces when she tried it.
She ran into their little front room where the elder was working on a
sermon, pulling grandma out of the kitchen by the hand.

"Teunis and I," she gasped, "have been lost in the storm, and nearly
froze to death, and he tied that man up with the well-rope, and maybe
he's starved to death in Teunis's house, and Teunis and I slept in a
strawstack, and Teunis is just as brave as he can be, and we're going to
be married awful soon, and I'm going to board with him then, and that'll
be nicer than with the McConkeys' and nearer the schoolhouse, and
cheaper, and Teunis will build fires for me, and we'll be just as happy
as we can be, and when you quit this stingy church you'll both of you
live with us forever and ever, and I want you to kiss Teunis and call
him your son right now, and if you don't we'll both be mad at you
always--no we won't, no we won't, you dear things, but you will marry
us, won't you?"

And then she cried hysterically and kissed us all.

"What Virginia says," said I, "is all true--especially the getting
married right now, and your living with us. We'll both be awful sorry if
we can't have you right off."

"I snum!" exclaimed Grandma Thorndyke. "Just as I expected!"

Grandma outlived the elder by many years; and it was not very long
before she came, a widow, to live with us "until she could hear from her
folks in Massachusetts." She finally heard from them, but she lived with
us, and is buried in our lot in the Monterey Centre burying-ground. She
always expected everything that happened. I have given some hints of her
character; but she had one weakness; she always, when she was a little
down, spoke of herself as being a burden to us, especially in the hard
times in the 'seventies. There was never a better woman, or one that did
more for a family than she did for Virginia and me and our children--and
our chickens and our calves and our lambs and goslings and ducks and
young turkeys. Of course, she wanted Virginia to do better than to marry
me; and that was all right with me after I understood it: but grandma
made that good, by always taking my side of every little difference in
the family.