"So now it's quite certain—certain and sure," father said. "No more need to croak and look dismal, mother. Now the money's ours, and we'll do our best to get a little pleasure out of it." Grannie had been looking grave, but not dismal, for it wasn't her way. Some people call everything dismal that isn't full of noisy merriment. I never could see, for my part, why one should be the happier for making a noise. Grannie did not seem put out, though, at his words. She only looked up at him, and said—"No, Miles, the money is not yours." "Well, well, it soon will be," said he, "if you must be so particular." "No," said she in the same manner. "It never will be yours, my dear." "Why, grannie, what silly notion have you got in your head now?" said he quite angrily. "Never will be mine! I tell you, the thing is as sure and certain as can be, and the money's as good as mine already. The matter's settled, and Jem Morison is beat out-and-out. It'll come, sure enough." "Yes, maybe," she answered. "The five thousand pounds is coming to you, Miles, my dear; but it's only lent. It isn't yours. 'The silver and gold are the Lord's.' He only lends it, Miles." "Oh, of course—to be sure," father said, his face clearing. "I didn't see what you were at. That's all right and well, mother—and quite proper for one at your age to be religious. But it don't alter the fact that I'm to have five thousand pounds." "Yes, to have it in your hands," grannie said. "But there'll be a day of reckoning, Miles, and every penny of that you'll have to account for to Him who owns it. I've thought it sometimes a fearful thing for rich folks, with their thousands and thousands, lent them by God to be spent for Him, and all to be accounted for. And now we'll have some of that same burden to bear." "One would think we were going in for some awful trouble, only to hear you speak," father said. "But you're not going to put me into the dismals, mother, for all you can say. If it's a burden, it's an uncommon pleasant sort. Wish it was a little heavier, that's all." "Yes, that's the way with men," says grannie quietly. "You'll soon begin to look on five thousand pounds as nothing, and to wish it was ten." "Well, I shouldn't mind now, if it was ten," father said. The next thing that came up was about a change of house. Mother wouldn't let the matter rest. Father did not seem to like the thought at first, for he knew how grannie was set against it. Grannie did not say to them what she had said to me, but just waited; and I did not tell it either. But mother let father have no peace. She was bent on getting a house in the same row with the Raikes', and on having a parlour that would beat Mrs. Raikes' parlour in smartness.