.

"Now, I wonder what's up?" she thought. "Well, I shan't burden the
child with my troubles to-day."

"Come," she said in a hearty voice, "sit you all down in your places.
Kitty, my girl, say your grace. That's right," as the child folded her
hands, closed her eyes, raised her piping voice, and pronounced a grace
in rhyme in a sing-song tone.

The moment the grace was finished a huge potato pie made its appearance
out of the oven, and the meal--good, hearty, and nourishing--began.
Grannie helped all the children. She piled the daintiest bits on
Alison's plate, watching the girl without appearing to do so as she
played with her dinner.

"Come, Ally, you are not eating," said Grannie. "This will never do.
It's a real pleasure to have you back in the middle of the day, and you
must show it by making a good meal. Ah, that's better. Help your
sister to some bread, David."

David was between fifteen and sixteen years of age, a fine well-grown
lad. He looked attentively at Alison, opened his lips as if to say
something, caught a warning glance from her eyes, and was instantly
silent. Alison forced herself to eat some of the nourishing pie, then
she looked full at Grannie.

"By the way, Grannie," she said, "you were to see the doctor at the
London Hospital this morning, were you not?"

"Yes, child; what about it? I'll have a piece of bread, David, if you
will cut it for me."

David did so. Alison detected some concealment in Grannie's voice, and
pursued her inquiries.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"Oh, what didn't he say. Nothing special--the old kind of story. I
never thought much of plaguing a doctor for a common sort of thing like
this. I'm to rub the hand with liniment three times a day. There's
the bottle on that shelf. I 'spect I'll be all right in a week or a
fortnight. Now, children, hurry up with your dinner; you'll have to be
off to school in less than ten minutes, so there's no time to lose."

The children began to eat quickly. Alison and David again exchanged
glances. Harry suddenly pushed back his chair.

"You say your grace before you go," said Grannie, fixing him with her
bright blue eyes.

He blushed a little, muttered a word or two, and then left the room.

"Harry is a good lad," said the old lady when he had gone, "but he is
getting a bit uppish. He's a masterful sort. He aint like you, Dave."

"I am masterful in my own way," answered David.

He crossed the room, ben