"Yes--but it's never opened, not even to look at the pictures. If you had one in every room in the house you wouldn't be any the better for it if you never read them, and--and acted 'pon what you're taught there." "But if you can't see to read," said Mona, trying to find excuses, "what's the good of your having a Bible?" "But you can see, and can read too, and I could till lately, and, anyway, you can read to me, and that's what I ought to have got you to do. I feel I haven't done my duty by you, child." Mona threw up her head. "I don't s'pose we're any worse than some that read their Bibles every day," she said, complacently. She had often heard others say that, and thought it rather fine. "That's not for you or me to say," retorted granny sternly. "That's the excuse folks always bring out when they ain't ashamed of themselves, but ought to be. If we ain't any worse, we ain't any better, and until we are we've no right to speak of others; and if we are--why, we shouldn't think of doing so. Most folks, though, who say that, do think themselves a deal better than others, though they don't say so in as many words." Mona stood staring into the fire, thinking matters over. She was very apt to take things to herself, and she was trying to assure herself that she never did think herself better than others--not better even than Millie Higgins. But she was not very well satisfied with the result. Granny's voice died away, the sun went down, and the room began to grow dim. Two lumps of coal fell together, and, bursting into a blaze, roused Mona from her reverie. She turned quickly, and found her grandmother gazing at the two halves of the broken tea-cup which she held in her hands. In the light of the fire tears glistened on her cheeks. Mona felt a sudden great longing to comfort her, to make life happier for her. "Granny, would you have liked me to have read some of my books to you sometimes?" "Very much, dearie. I always loved a nice story." "Oh--why ever didn't you say so before." The words broke from Mona like a cry of reproach. "I didn't know, I never thought--I thought you'd think them silly or--or--something." "I know--it wasn't your fault. Sometimes I think it'd be better if we asked more of each other, and didn't try to be so independent. It's those that you do most for that you care most for--and miss most when they're gone!" added granny, half under her breath. Once again Mona was struck by the curious change in granny's tone and manner, and felt a depressing sense of foreboding. "Would you like me to read to you now, granny? Out of--of the Bible?" She hesitated, as though shy of even speaking the name. "Yes, dearie, I'd dearly love to hear the 86th Psalm."