“But must I wait to be old for that, grandmother?” cried Anna, bursting into tears. “Hush, darling, hush! I did not say that.” “Go on, grandmother,” said Anna, drawing a deep breath, “I will not interrupt you again. You were telling about grandfather?” “Yes, dear. We had a son, your father. We were not rich; but had enough, and were very, very happy. I know he loved me, then, and I tried to be a good wife and a kind mother.” “The best mother that ever lived; my father always said that,” cried Anna. Mrs. Burns kissed her cheek and went on. “But your grandfather was ambitious. He had great business talent, which was cramped and of little avail in the old country, so he resolved to come to America and build up a fortune here. My husband was afraid to make his first venture burdened with a family. None but very enterprising men left home for this new country in those days; and few of them ever took their families—it was considered too hazardous. “I and the boy were left behind. It was a great struggle, for he loved us dearly. I know he loved us with all his heart—nothing will ever convince me that he did not. He divided his property, leaving us enough to live on for some years; the rest he took with him as capital to aid in any new enterprise that might present itself. I was very lonely after he went. The parting from my husband took away half my life. But for the boy, Anna, I think that I should have died.” Mrs. Burns was interrupted by two trembling lips upon her cheek, and a broken voice murmured, “Poor, poor grandfather!” “He wrote me by every vessel during the first year. ‘New York had not answered his speculations,’ he said, but there was an opening for fur dealers in the West, and he was thinking of that very seriously.’