er t' the poor-house!" And with this
cheerful assumption she slammed her door.

"There! There! Robin'll take you home. Don't cry," begged Robin,
kneeling in the path and encircling poor little Susy in her arms. "We'll
go back to the big house and Robin'll make you nice and warm."

"I want Granny!" wailed the child, feeling her miserable little world
rocking about her.

Robin straightened and looked at the house. Granny was dead, the
neighbor had said; nothing more could be done for her. But something in
the desolation of the place, the boarded door, the dingy window stuffed
with its rags, smote Robin. Poor Granny must have died all alone. No one
had even whispered a good-bye. And she lay in there all alone. Robin
knew little of death; to her it had always meant a beautiful passing to
somewhere, with lovely flowers and music and gentle grief. This was
horribly different--there was no one left but little Susy and she was
going to take Susy away at once. Ought she not to just go softly into
that house and do _something_--something kind and courteous that
Granny, somewhere above, might see--and like?

"Wait here, Susy. I'll be back in a moment." She walked resolutely
around to the door which Susy, in her flight, had left half-open. At the
threshold a cold dread seized her, sending shivers racing down her
spine, catching her breath, bringing out tiny beads of moisture on her
forehead. She had never seen a dead person--had she the courage?

She tiptoed softly into the room, her eyes staring straight ahead. In
its centre she stopped and looked slowly, slowly around as though
dragging her gaze to the object she dreaded--across the littered table,
the cupboard, the stove crowded with unwashed pots and pans, the dirty
floor, an overturned chair, the smoke-blackened lamp and last--last to
the bed. There, amid the tumbled quilts, lay poor Granny.

Robin swallowed what she knew was her heart and walked to the bed.
"Granny," she said softly, because she had to say something, then almost
screamed in terror at the sound of her own voice. Strangely enough there
was a smile on the worn, thin lips. In her high-strung condition Robin
thought it had just come--she liked to _think_ it had just come. It gave
her courage. She smoothed the dirty gray covers and folded them neatly
across the still form, careful not to touch the withered hands. Then she
looked about. Her eyes lit on the faded pink flowers that still adorned
the what-not. Mo