soil ready to receive it. And how many, many
times in my life have I not recalled it! For, Ralph and Sylvia and Molly,
my darlings, remember this--even to the naturally frank and honest there
come times of sore temptation in life, times when a little swerving from
the straight narrow path of uprightness would seem to promise to put all
straight when things have gone wrong, times when the cost seems so little
and the gain so great. Ah! yes, children, we need to have a firm anchor
to hold by at these times, and woe for us then if the little evil seed
has been planted and has taken root in our hearts."

Grandmother paused. The children too were silent for a moment or two.
Then Sylvia said gently,

"Did you tell your father and mother all about it, grandmother?"

"Yes," said grandmother, "I did--all about it. I told them everything. It
was my own choice. My grandmother left it to myself. She would not tell
them; she would leave it to me. And, of course, I did tell them. I could
not feel happy till I had done so. They were very kind about it, _very_
kind, but still it was to my grandmother I felt the most grateful and the
most drawn. From that time till her death, when I was nearly grown up,
she was my dearest counsellor and guide. I had no concealment from her--I
told her everything. For her heart was so wonderfully young; to the very
last she was able to sympathise in all my girlish joys, and sorrows, and
difficulties."

"Like you, grandmother dear," said Molly, softly stroking her
grandmother's hand, which she had taken in hers. "She must have been just
like you."

They all smiled.

"And when she died," pursued grandmother gently, almost as if speaking to
herself, "when she died and all her things were divided, I begged them to
give me the pink cup. I might have had a more valuable one instead, but I
preferred it. It is one of those two over there on the little cabinet."

Molly's eyes turned eagerly in the direction of the little cabinet.
"Grandmother dear," she said, solemnly, "when you die--I don't _want_ you
to die, you know of course, but when you _do_ die, I wish you would say
that _I_ may have that cup--will you? To remind me, you know, of what you
have been telling us. I quite understand how you mean: that day all my
brooches were broken, I did awfully want not to tell you about them all,
and I might forget, you see, about the little bad seed and all that, that
you have been telling us so nicely. Please, gra