Grandmother rolled her eyes helplessly toward Rosemary, then suddenly sat up. "Where'd you get 'em?" she demanded, in a different tone.
"They were on the floor under the washstand. Please come before everything gets cold."
"I told you you hadn't swallowed 'em," remarked Matilda, caustically.
"Maybe I didn't, but I might have," rejoined Grandmother. "Anyhow, I've seen how you'd all act in case I had swallered 'em, and I know who to leave my money to when I die." She beamed kindly upon Rosemary, in whom the mention of money had produced mingled emotions of anger and resentment.
"If you had swallowed 'em, Rosemary couldn't have got 'em," Matilda objected.
"She'd have tried," said the old lady, sharply, "and that's more than can be said of some folks. Not mentionin' any names."
A Bit of Gossip
Breakfast bade fair to be a lively sparring match when Rosemary interposed, pacifically: "Never mind what might have been. Let's be glad she didn't swallow them." As the others accepted this compromise, the remainder of the meal proceeded in comparative peace.
"I heard from the milkman this morning," said Matilda, "that Marshs' company has gone."
"Gone!" repeated Grandmother. "What for? I thought she had come to stay a spell."
"Gone!" echoed Rosemary, in astonishment.
"Did she go sudden?" queried Grandmother.
"Well, in a way it was sudden, and in a way 'twasn't. She was more'n a whole day puttin' her clothes into her trunks--the respectable trunk, and the big trunk, and the dog-house, and the one what had bulges on all sides but one."
"What train did she go on?"
"The eight o'clock accommodation, yesterday morning. Young Marsh went down to see her off, and the station agent told the milkman that he stood lookin' after the train until you couldn't even see the smoke from the engine. The agent was restin' after havin' helped hist the trunks on the train, and young Marsh up and handed him out a dollar, without even sayin' what it was for. He reckoned it was pay for stoppin' the train and helpin' to put on the trunks, but the railroad pays him for doin' that, so the milkman thinks it was kind of a thank-offerin', on account of her havin' stayed so long that they was glad to get rid of her."
A Tip
"'Twasn't no thank-offerin'," replied Grandmother, shaking her head sagely. "That's what they call a tip."