heumatism."

"Well, mum, what'd be the use to cry? Why, bless ye, there's wus
things'n that! As long's I hain't got no husband, I don't feel to
complain!"

She shook her sides so heartily at this, that Fly laughed aloud.

"So you don't approve of husbands, Granny?"

"No more I don't, mum; they're troublesome craychers, so fur as I've
seen."

"But don't you get down-hearted, living all alone?"

"O, no, mum; I do suppose I'm the happiest woman in the city o' New
Yorruk. When I goes to bed, I just gives up all my thrubbles to the
Lord, and goes to sleep."

"But when you are sick, Granny?"

"O, then, sometimes I feels bahd, not to be airnin' nothin', and gets
some afeard o' the poorhouse; but, bless ye, I can't help thinking the
Lord'll keep me out."

"I'm pretty sure He will," said Aunt Madge, resolving on the spot that
the good old soul never should go to a place she dreaded so much. "Have
you any butter-scotch to-day, Granny?"

"O, yes, mum; sights of it. Help yourself. I want to tell you
something'll please you," said the old woman, bending forward, and
speaking in a low tone, and with sparkling eyes. "I've put some money in
the bank, mum; enough to bury me! _Ain't_ that good!"

Prudy and Dotty were terribly shocked. She must be crazy to talk about
her own funeral. As if she was glad of it, too? But Horace thought it a
capital joke.

"That's a jolly way to use your money," whispered he to Prudy; "much
good may it do her?" And then aloud, in a patronizing tone, "I'll take a
few of your apples, Granny. How do you sell 'em?"

"These here, a penny apiece; them there, two pennies; and them, three."

Horace felt in his coat pocket for his purse; and drew out his hand
quickly, as if a bee had stung it.

"Why, what! What does this mean?"

"What is it, Horace?"

"Nothing, auntie, only my wallet's gone," replied the boy, very white
about the mouth.

"Gone? Look again. Are you sure?"

"Yes, as sure as I want to be?"

"Mine,--is mine gone too?" cried Prudy.

Horace did not seem willing to answer.

"Where did you have your purse last?"

"Just before we came out of Dorlon's oyster saloon. Just before we came
here for butter-scotch," replied Horace, glaring fiercely at Granny.

"Are you quite sure?"

"Is mine gone, too?" cried Prudy again. "Did you put mine in the same
pocket?"

"Yes, Prue; I put yours in the same pocket; and it's gone, too."

"O, Horace!"

"A pretty clean sweep, Prue."

"The _