"And Horace is so large now, that he was some help, too, I've no doubt," said his grandmother. "I would have took the baby," cried Horace, speaking up very quickly, before any one else had time to answer,--"I would have took the baby, but she wouldn't let me." Mrs. Clifford might have said that Horace himself had been as much trouble as the baby; but she was too kind to wound her little boy's feelings. It was certainly a very happy party who met around the tea-table at Mr. Parlin's that evening. It was already dusk, and the large globe lamp, with its white porcelain shade, gave a cheery glow to the pleasant dining-room. First, there was cream-toast, made of the whitest bread, and the sweetest cream. "This makes me think of Mrs. Gray," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling; "I hope she is living yet." "She is," said Margaret, "but twelve years old." Grace looked up in surprise. "Why, that's only a little girl, aunt Madge!" "My dear, it's only a cow!" "O, now I remember; the little blue one, with brass knobs on her horns!" "Let's see; do you remember Dr. Quack and his wife?" "O, yes'm! they were white ducks; and how they did swim! It was a year ago. I suppose Horace doesn't remember." "Poh! yes, I do; they were _spin-footed_!" "Why, Horace," said Grace, laughing; "you mean _web-footed_!" Horace bent his eyes on his plate, and did not look up again for some time. There was chicken-salad on the table. Margaret made that--putting in new butter, because she knew Mrs. Clifford did not like oil. There was delicious looking cake, "some that had been touched with frost, and some that hadn't," as grandpa said, when he passed the basket. But the crowning glory of the supper was a dish of scarlet strawberries, which looked as if they had been drinking dew-drops and sunshine till they had caught all the richness and sweetness of summer. "O, ma!" whispered Grace, "I'm beginning to feel so happy! I only wish my father was here." After tea, grandpa took Horace and Grace on each knee, large as they were, and sang some delightful evening hymns with what was left of his once fine voice. He looked so peaceful and happy, that his daughters were reminded of the Bible verse, "Children's children are the crown of old men." "I think now," said Mrs. Clifford, coming back from putting the baby to sleep, "it's high time my boy and girl were saying, 'Good-night, and pleasant dreams.'" "Aunt Madge is going up stairs with us; aren't you, auntie?" "Yes, Horace; your other auntie wouldn't do, I suppose," said Louise. "That makes me think of the way this same Horace used to treat me when he was two years old. '_Her_ can't put me to bed,' he would say; 'her's too _little_.'" "I remember," said Margaret, "how he dreaded cold water. When his mother called him to be washed, and said, 'Ma doesn't want a little dirty boy,' he would look up in her face, and say, 'Does mamma want 'ittle _cold_ boy?'"