Dear old Granny, with the white hair under her mob-cap, and her withered, aged face. Ah, well! would not all the lines be smoothed away before the crown of life was laid upon her brow? It may be that my father saw her failing, and was 'vexed' by it, but he said nothing. Besides, Granny toiled that he should still find a bright fire and tidy room to greet him, and Hildred was always coming in to help her. Granny said the sight of her sweet face made her feel young again. 'Her cheeks are like the red roses that grew over our porch when I was a girl. They used to say I was like one of those roses once, for I was a pretty girl, my dears, though you would not believe it now. I don't think girls are so pretty now-a-days as they used to be when sister Nancy and I were young.' 'I am sure they are not, Granny,' Hildred would say laughing, and putting her red-rose cheek fondly against Granny's wrinkled face. 'Do you want me to do anything more this evening?' 'Bless you, pretty child, no. Run away with Willie. Young folks will ever be courting, and it's right they should--quite right.' And Granny nodded wisely. I felt the blood coming up into my cheeks. 'I think Granny sometimes mixes me up with Cuthbert,' I said. 'Perhaps she does,' Hildred answered. 'Yes, she is growing very old.' One day my father chanced to be by when Granny was putting away the tea things, a task she never let any one take from her for fear of accidents. 'Young folks are careless at times, poor dears.' But Granny's steadiness of hand was not so great as her good will, or else her eyes failed her, for presently a cup fell down and was smashed to pieces. She looked startled, sorry, and half-frightened, as she found my father close behind her, and she gave up the rest of the cups to him quite meekly. 'Yes, Stephen, I see. You needn't talk about it. I'm not fit to do it any more. The children'll have to do the best they can, and I'll just sit still and wait. Don't you be afraid.' She went and sat down in the chimney-corner, and twirled her thumbs rapidly one over the other. By-and-by the vexed look went out of her face, and the patience that made it quite beautiful came back. 'Where's Hildred?' my father asked me, after vainly trying to join the pieces of the broken cup together with his big fingers. I said she had gone home. 'You should ha' married the girl, Will,' he said roughly, 'and have saved all this breaking and wasting. And then there would have been somebody to see to her,' motioning towards his mother. 'You know I couldn't.' 'I don't say as how you could then, but that's not now. Yon lad has forgotten her long since, I'll lay. They soldiers never hold to one thing long together.' 'Cuthbert forgotten Hildred!' I said. 'Not he.' 'Have it your own way,' he answered; 'only we want to get hold of some woman that'll keep things straight, that's clear.'