Grandmother Dear | Page 3

laughed at for writing
out a sort of genealogical tree of some of my little fancy friends' family
connections. We need not go quite so far as that, but I will explain to
you about these new little friends of yours enough for you to be able to
find out the rest for yourselves.
They had never seen their grandmother before, never, that is to say, in
the girls' case, and in Ralph's "not to remember her." Ralph was
fourteen now, Sylvia thirteen, and Molly about a year and a half
younger. More than seven years ago their mother had died, and since
then they had been living with their father, whose profession obliged
him often to change his home, in various different places. It had been
impossible for their grandmother, much as she wished it, to have had
them hitherto with her, for, for several years out of the seven, her hands,
and those of aunty, too, her only other daughter besides their mother,

had been more than filled with other cares. Their grandfather had been
ill for many years before his death, and for his sake grandmother and
aunty had left the English home they loved so much, and gone to live in
the south of France. And after his death, as often happens with people
no longer young, and somewhat wearied, grandmother found that the
old dream of returning "home," and ending her days with her children
and old friends round her, had grown to be but a dream, and, what was
more, had lost its charm. She had grown to love her new home,
endeared now by so many associations; she had got used to the ways of
the people, and felt as if English ways would be strange to her, and as
aunty's only idea of happiness was to find it in hers, the mother and
daughter had decided to make their home where for nearly fourteen
years it had been. They had gone to England this autumn for a few
weeks, finally to arrange some matters that had been left unsettled, and
while there something happened which made them very glad that they
had done so. Mr. Heriott, the children's father, had received an
appointment in India, which would take him there for two or three
years, and though grandmother and aunty were sorry to think of his
going so far away, they were--oh, I can't tell you how delighted! when
he agreed to their proposal, that the children's home for the time should
be with them. It would be an advantage for the girls' French, said
grandmother, and would do Ralph no harm for a year or two, and if his
father's absence lasted longer, it could easily be arranged for him to be
sent back to England to school, still spending his holidays at Châlet. So
all was settled; and grandmother, who had taken a little house at Dover
for a few weeks, stayed there quietly, while aunty journeyed away up to
the north of England to fetch the children, their father being too busy
with preparations for his own departure to be able conveniently to take
them to Dover himself. There were some tears shed at parting with
"papa," for the children loved him truly, and believed in his love for
them, quiet and undemonstrative though his manner was. There were
some tears, too, shed at parting with "nurse," who, having
conscientiously spoilt them all, was now getting past work, and was to
retire to her married daughter's; there were a good many bestowed on
the rough coat of Shag, the pony, and the still rougher of Fusser, the
Scotch terrier; but after all, children are children, and for my part I
should be very sorry for them to be anything else, and the delights of

the change and the bustle of the journey soon drowned all melancholy
thoughts.
And so far all had gone charmingly. Aunty had proved to be all that
could be wished of aunty-kind, and grandmother promised more than
fairly.
"What would we have done if she had been very tall and stout, and
fierce-looking, with spectacles and a hookey nose?" thought Molly, and
as the thought struck her, she left off eating, and sat with wide open
eyes, staring at her grandmother.
Though grandmother did not in general wear spectacles--only when
reading very small print, or busied with some peculiarly fine
fancywork--nothing ever seemed to escape her notice.
"Molly, my dear, what are you staring at so? Is my cap crooked?" she
said. Molly started.
"Oh no, grandmother dear," she replied. "I was only thinking----" she
stopped short, jumped off her seat, and in another moment was round
the table with a rush, which would have been sadly trying to most
grandmothers and aunties, only fortunately these special