"For Heaven's sake, ma," said Madeline, looking up sharply; "what can pa
be a' doin??"
"Oh," calmly said Grandma Keeler, "I guess he's only settlin' down."
And with Grandma, indeed, the turmoils of this sublunary sphere implied
only a vast ultimate settling down.
But if such deep rest came to Grandpa, it was only as a dream from which
he was soon to be rudely awakened.
The sound of his footsteps had ceased. I knew that he was seated in his
chair by the fire, and I heard the long-handled popper shaken back and
forth upon the stove, at first as if moved by the power of a steadfast
purpose. But the sound grew fainter, the motions less regular. They were
several times desperately renewed, and then ceased altogether, so quickly
had Grandpa soared beyond the low vicissitudes of a corn-popping world.
Soon a burning smell arose. Then the door of the kitchen opened. Grandpa
was startled. I knew the catastrophe. The corn-popper with its contents
had been precipitated to the floor. Then I heard a courteous male voice,
with just a touch of suppressed merriment in it:--
"Never mind, Captain! small business for you, steering such a slim craft
as that, eh? On a red-hot, stove, too!"
"Humph! Topmast heavier than the hull," replied Grandpa, accepting with
gratitude, in this extremity, the sympathy of the new-comer.
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