on a low chair and, calling Irene, made her kneel before her while
she looked at her hand. Having examined it, she opened the casket,
and took from it a little ointment. The sweetest odour filled the
room - like that of roses and lilies - as she rubbed the ointment
gently all over the hot swollen hand. Her touch was so pleasant
and cool that it seemed to drive away the pain and heat wherever it
came.

'Oh, grandmother! it is so nice!' said Irene. 'Thank you; thank
you.'

Then the old lady went to a chest of drawers, and took out a large
handkerchief of gossamer-like cambric, which she tied round her
hand.

'I don't think I can let you go away tonight,' she said. 'Would
you like to sleep with me?'

'Oh, yes, yes, dear grandmother,' said Irene, and would have
clapped her hands, forgetting that she could not.

'You won't be afraid, then, to go to bed with such an old woman?'

'No. You are so beautiful, grandmother.'

'But I am very old.'

'And I suppose I am very young. You won't mind sleeping with such
a very young woman, grandmother?'