you
do want to settle down in a home again, please let me know, and I'll do
my very best to provide you with a comfortable one."

"I 'spect I won't have to pay no rent for my next home," said Grannie
softly, under her breath, as she turned away from the door. "Oh, Lord,
to think that you're gettin' a mansion in the sky ready for an old body
like me, and no rent to pay neither! Dear Lord, to think it is getting
ready for me now! I am about as happy an old woman as walks--that I
am."

Grannie felt the religion which was part and parcel of her life
extremely uplifting that morning. It tided her safely over an hour so
dark that it might have broken a less stout heart. The auctioneer came
round and priced the furniture. Every bit of that furniture had a
history. Part of it belonged to the Reeds, part to the Phippses, and
part to the Simpsons. It was full of the stories of many lives; but,
as Grannie said to herself, "I'll have heaps of time by and by to fret
about the eight-day clock, and the little oak bureau under the window,
and the plates, and cups, and dishes, and tables; I need not waste
precious minutes over 'em now."

So the auctioneer, who somehow could not cheat those blue eyes, offered
a fair price for the little "bits o' duds," and by twelve o'clock he
sent round a cart and a couple of men to carry them away. The flat was
quite bare and empty before Grannie finally locked the hall door and
took the key down to Mrs. Murray.

Mrs. Murray was very fond of Grannie, and was extremely inclined to be
inquisitive; but if ever Mrs. Reed had been on her full dignity it was
this morning. She spoke about the good luck of the children in having
found such comfortable homes, said that household work was getting a
little too much for her, and that now she was going away on a visit.

"To the country, ma'am?" said Mrs. Murray. "It is rather early for the
country jest yet, aint it?"

"It is to a very nice part, suitable to the season," replied Grannie,
setting her lips firmly. "I'm always in luck, and I'm in my usual good
luck now in findin' kind friends willin' and glad to have me. I will
wish you 'good-day' now, ma'am; I mustn't keep my friends waiting."

"But won't you have a cup of tea afore you go, for you really look
quite shaky?" said Mrs. Murray, who noticed that Grannie's left hand
shook when she laid the key of the lost home on the table.

"No, no, ma'am. I expect to have tea with my friends," was