"There, there," broke off the little old woman at last, "how I am
runnin' on! But, somehow, somethin' set me to talkin' ter-day. Mebbe't
was that chair that's like yer father's," she hazarded.
"Maybe it was," agreed Mrs. John quietly, as she rose to her feet.
The new house came on apace. In a wonderfully short time John Burton
began to urge his wife to see about rugs and hangings. It was then that
Mrs. John called him to one side and said a few hurried but very earnest
words--words that made the Honorable John open wide his eyes.
"But, Edith," he remonstrated, "are you crazy? It simply couldn't be
done! The things are scattered over half a dozen townships; besides, I
haven't the least idea where the auctioneer's list is--if I saved it at
all."
"Never mind, dear; I may try, surely," begged Mrs. John. And her husband
laughed and reached for his check-book.
"Try? Of course you may try! And here's this by way of wishing you good
luck," he finished, as he handed her an oblong bit of paper that would
go far toward smoothing the most difficult of ways.
"You dear!" cried Mrs. John. "And now I'm going to work."
It was at about this time that Mrs. John went away. The children were at
college and boarding-school; John was absorbed in business and house-
building, and Grandpa and Grandma Burton were contented and well cared
for.
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