ittle boy, and say Mr. Marrowbone the Smith was old Mrs. Marrowbone's
grandson. Because you know he was--now don't you, Davy? You tell Mrs.
Prichard he was old Mrs. Marrowbone's grandson!" Dave, however, shook
his head obdurately. No concession!

"Perhaps he was her son," said Mrs. Prichard. But this surmise only
prolonged the headshake; which promised to become chronic, to pause only
when some ground of agreement could be discovered.

"The child don't above half know what he's talking about, not to say
_know_!" Thus Aunt M'riar in a semi-aside to the old lady. It was
gratuitous insult to add:--"He don't reely know what's a grandson,
ma'am."

Dave's blue eyes flashed indignation. "Yorse I _does_ know!" cried he,
loud enough to lay himself open to remonstrance. He continued under due
restraint:--"I'm going to be old Mrs. Marrowbone's grangson." He then
remembered that the treaty was conditional, and added a proviso:--"So
long as I'm a good boy!"

"Won't you be my grandson, too, Davy darling?" said old Mrs. Prichard.
And, if you can conceive it, there was pain in her voice--real pain--as
well as the treble of old age. She was jealous, you see; jealous of this
old Mrs. Marrowbone, who seemed to come between her and her little
new-found waterspring in the desert.

But Dave was embarrassed, and she took his embarrassment for reluctance
to grant her the same status as old Mrs. Marrowbone. It was nothing of
the sort. It was merely his doubt whether such an arrangement would be
permissible under canon law. It was bigamy, however much you chose to
prevaricate. The old lady's appealing voice racked Dave's feelings. "I
carn't!" he exclaimed, harrowed. "I've spromussed to be Mrs.
Marrowbone's grangson--I have." And thereupon old Mrs. Prichard,
perceiving that he was really distressed, hastened to set his mind at
ease. Of course he couldn't be her grandson, if he was already Mrs.
Marrowbone's. She overlooked or ignored the possible compromise offered
by the fact that two grandmothers are the common lot of all mankind. But
it would be unjust--this was clear to her--that Dave should suffer in
any way from her jealous disposition. So she put her little grievance
away in her inmost heart--where indeed there was scarcely room for it,
so preoccupied had the places been--and then, as an active step towards
forgetting it, went on to talk to Dave about old Mrs. Marrowbone,
although she was not Mr. Marrowbone the Smith's grandmother.