Mrs. Wiley was very sweet and condescending (how Ronald detested her for that last!), made a few commonplace remarks on the weather and the crops, then condoled with the lad on his protracted sufferings, and with Mrs. Heath because of the care that devolved upon her in the rearing of her grandchildren. “I know how to sympathize with you,” she sighed, “having burdened myself with the bringing up of an orphan niece. It is a great responsibility. I feel that she can never repay me for all I am doing for her; but I look to the Lord for my reward.” “And I am sure, if you are doing it for His sake, He will not leave you unrewarded,” returned the old lady, her eyes glistening. “But, indeed, I cannot rate so highly my poor services to my son’s children, and shall feel amply recompensed if they grow up to be good and useful members of society. In fact, Mrs. Wiley, they repay me now by their dutiful and affectionate behavior.” “Oh, grandma, you put too low an estimate upon your good deeds!” remarked Ronald, half playfully, half tenderly. “Child, I have never done any worth the name,” she returned, with unaffected humility. Mrs. Wiley changed the subject. Turning to Ronald, she spoke in glowing terms of the debt of gratitude owed by the country to her “brave boys in blue,” the noble fellows who had fought and bled to save the Union (she must say it, even though her dear brother Avery was one of them), and she would try to do a little toward cancelling her own share of the obligation to Ronald by sending over some little delicacy now and then to tempt his sickly appetite; she was reckoned a good cook—she did not say it boastingly—though, of course, not better than his own grandmother and sister; but something sent in from a neighbor’s was appreciated by an invalid just because it came from abroad. Ronald thanked her, not too warmly, and added that he could not have her put herself to so much trouble; his appetite was not bad, and home cooking really suited him better than any other. At that her cheek flushed, and for an instant she looked ill pleased; then laughing lightly, she remarked that no one ought to blame him for his partiality to those who were so very near and dear. Yet, as it was often desirable and beneficial to vary the diet, she would venture to do as she had proposed. It would be no trouble at all; on the contrary, a real pleasure, for she loved to do good and to give. “But we of this family are not in need, madam,” he returned, his tone slightly sarcastic, “and your alms were better bestowed upon those who are.” “Oh, fie! you must not be so proud,” she said, adopting a sportive tone, though evidently with an effort. “You are a reader, I see,” she added, glancing at the book he had laid aside on her entrance. “I hope you don’t neglect your Bible?” “No, he does not,” said his grandmother, answering for him; “Ronald is a good boy.”