Her mother was his
daughter; but the old man would never see her, because she had married
against his will. Her husband was now dead, but he had not forgiven her
yet. After the shadow he had seen, however, he said to himself, as he
lay awake that night--I saw the words on his face--'How shall I get rid
of that old devil? If I don't eat I shall die. I wish little Mary would
come to-morrow. Ah! her mother would never serve me so, if I lived a
hundred years more.' He lay awake, thinking such things over and over
again all night long, and I stood watching him from a dark corner; till
the day spring came and shook me out. When I came back next night, the
room was tidy and clean. His own daughter, a sad-faced, still beautiful
woman, sat by his bedside; and little Mary was curled up on the floor,
by the fire, imitating us, by making queer shadows on the ceiling with
her twisted hands. But she could not think how ever they got there. And
no wonder, for I helped her to some very unaccountable ones.'
"'I have a story about a grand-daughter, too,' said another, the moment
that speaker ceased.
"'Tell it. Tell it.'
"'Last Christmas-day,' he began, 'I and a troop of us set out in the
twilight, to find some house where we could all have something to do;
for we had made up our minds to act together. We tried several, but
found objections to them all.
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