"But I don't care," thought 'Phemie, as they clattered out of town. "Crazy or not, if she can pay her board she's so much help. Let the ball keep on rolling. It's getting bigger and bigger. Perhaps we _shall_ have a houseful at Hillcrest, after all." CHAPTER XVII THE RUNAWAY GRANDMOTHER But 'Phemie was immensely curious about this strange little old lady who was dressed so oddly, yet who apparently came from the wealthiest section of the city of Easthampton. The young girl could not bring herself to ask questions of their visitor--let Lyddy do that, if she thought it necessary. But, as it chanced, up to a certain point Mrs. Castle was quite open of speech and free to communicate information about herself. As soon as they had got out of town she turned to 'Phemie and said: "I expect you think I'm as queer as Dick's hat-band, Euphemia? I am quite sure you never saw a person like me before?" "Why--Mrs. Castle--not _just_ like you," admitted the embarrassed 'Phemie. "I expect not! Well, I presume there are other old women, who are grandmothers, and have got all tangled up in these new-fangled notions that women have--Laws' sake! I might as well tell you right off that I've run away!" "Run away?" gasped 'Phemie, with a vision of keepers from an asylum coming to Hillcrest to take away their new boarder. "That's exactly what I have done! None of my folks know where I have gone. I just wrote a note, telling them not to look for me, and that I was going back to old-fashioned times, if I could find 'em. Then I got this bag out of the cupboard--I'd kept it all these years--packed it with my very oldest duds, and--well, here I am!" and the old lady's laugh rang out as shrill and clear as a blackbird's call. "I have astonished you; have I?" she pursued. "And I suppose I have astonished my folks. But they know I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I ought to be. Why, I'm a grandmother three times!" "'Three times?'" repeated the amazed 'Phemie. "Yes, Miss Euphemia Bray. Three grandchildren--two girls and a boy. And they are always telling folks how up-to-date grandma is! I'm sick of being up-to-date. I'm sick of dressing so that folks behind me on the street can't tell whether I'm a grandmother or my own youngest grandchild! "We just live in a perfect whirl of excitement. 'Pleasure,' they call it. But it's gotten to be a nuisance. My daughter-in-law has her head full of society matters and club work. The girls and Tom spend all but the little time they are obliged to give to books in the private schools they attend, in dancing and theatre parties, and the like. "And here a week ago I found my son--their father--a man forty-five years old, and bald, and getting fat, being taught the tango by a French dancing professor in the back drawing-room!" exclaimed Mrs. Castle, in a tone of disgust that almost convulsed 'Phemie.