Grandpa was
slow-moving, and tall and broad--even taller and broader than
father; and he must be terribly wise because he was Justice-of-the-
Peace, and because he didn't talk much. Other children thought him a
person to be feared somewhat, but Missy liked to tuck her hand in
his enormous one and talk to him about strange, mysterious things.
Grandma wasn't nearly so big--indeed she wasn't much taller than
Missy herself; and she was proud of her activity--her "spryness,"
she called it. She boasted of her ability to stoop over and, without
bending her knees, to lay both palms flat on the floor. Even Missy's
mother couldn't do that, and sometimes she seemed to grow a little
tired of being reminded of it. Grandma liked to talk as much as
grandpa liked to keep silent; and always, to the running
accompaniment of her tongue, she kept her hands busied, whether
"puttering about" in her house or flower-garden, or crocheting
"tidies," or knitting little mittens, or creating the multi-coloured
paper-flowers which helped make her house so alluring.
That night for supper they had beefsteak and hot biscuits and
custard pie; and grandma let her eat these delicacies which were
forbidden at home.
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