them back, and arranging them upon the bench sat down by them defiantly,
kicking vigorously against the side of the house in token of his
victory, and wholly unconscious that every thud of his little heels sent
a stab to his grandfather's heart.

What if he should kick through the clapboards? What if the floor should
cave in? Such were the questions which tortured the half crazed man, as
he wiped the perspiration from his face and wondered at the perversity
of the boy in selecting that spot of all others, where he must play and
sit and kick as only a healthy, active child can do.

But after the day when Grey succeeded in capturing his hands, Granpa
Jerrold ceased to interfere with the play-house, and the boy was left in
peace upon the bench, though his grandfather often sat near and watched
him anxiously, and always seemed relieved when the child tired of that
particular spot and wandered elsewhere in quest of amusement.

There was, however, one place in the house which Grey never sought to
penetrate, and that was his grandfather's bedroom. It is true he had
never been allowed to enter it, for one of Hannah's first lessons was
that her father did not like children in his room. Ordinarily this would
have made no difference with Grey, who had a way of going where he
pleased; but the gloomy appearance of the room where the curtains were
always down did not attract him, and he would only go as far as the door
and look in, saying to his aunt:

"Bears in there! Grey not go."

And Hannah let him believe in the bears, and breathed more freely when
he came away from the door, though she frequently whispered to herself.