from all the old associations. But blood is thicker than water. After much tossing up of the matter, her maternal instincts came to the aid of her convictions, and she decided to go. The old cottage, with all it contained, was given over into the care of Betsey with these words: "I don't know how I shall like it there; and perhaps, after all, I shall die here among you."
A few days after this a wagon stood at the door of the cottage. Wenzel, the driver, placed upon it Grandmother's large flowered chest; her feather-beds tied in a sheet; the spinning wheel, to her an indispensable piece of furniture; a basket, containing four top-knotted chickens; and a bag with a pair of party-colored kittens. Last, but not least, came Grandmother herself, her eyes red from weeping. It was no wonder that she wept; for around her stood the villagers, who had come to bid her farewell, and followed by their blessing she rode slowly to her new home.
What bright anticipations, what rejoicing at The Old Bleachery,—for thus the people called the isolated house that had been assigned to Grandmother's daughter, Mrs. Proshek, as her home on the estates of the princess. Every few moments the children ran out to the road to see if Wenzel was coming; and every passer by heard the wondrous news that Grandma was coming. The children kept asking each other, "How do you suppose Grandma will look?"
They knew several grandmas, whose images were curiously confounded in their little heads, and they could not decide to which of them their own could be compared.
