Grandma tucked her into bed--the big, extraordinarily soft feather-
bed which was one of the outstanding features of grandma's
fascinating house.
And there--wonder of wonders!--the moon, through grandma's window,
found her out just as readily as though she'd been in her own little
bed at home. Again it carried in the grace of God, to rest through
the night on her pillow.
Next day was an extremely happy day. She had coffee for breakfast,
and was permitted by Alma, the hired girl, to dry all the cups and
saucers. Then she dusted the parlour, including all the bric-a-brac,
which made dusting here an engrossing occupation. Later she helped
grandpa hoe the cabbages, and afterward "puttered around" with
grandma in the flower-garden. Then she and grandma listened, very
quietly, through a crack in the nearly-closed door while grandpa
conducted a hearing in the parlour. To tell the truth, Missy wasn't
greatly interested in whether Mrs. Brenning's chickens had scratched
up Mrs. Jones's tomato-vines, hut she pretended to be interested
because grandma was.
And then, after the hearing was over, and the Justice-of-the-Peace
had become just grandpa again, Missy went into the parlour and
played hymns.
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