The two girls had a cosey little luncheon with Mrs. Redding, after which
Rose carried Katy off to see the house and everything in it which was in
any way connected with her own personal history,--the room where she
used to sleep, the high-chair in which she sat as a baby and which was
presently to be made over to little Rose, the sofa where Deniston
offered himself, and the exact spot on the carpet on which she had stood
while they were being married! Last of all,--

"Now you shall see the best and dearest thing in the whole house,"
she said, opening the door of a room in the second story.--
"Grandmamma, here is my friend Katy Carr, whom you have so often
heard me tell about."

It was a large pleasant room, with a little wood-fire blazing in a
grate, by which, in an arm-chair full of cushions, with a
Solitaire-board on a little table beside her, sat a sweet old lady.
This was Rose's father's mother. She was nearly eighty; but she was
beautiful still, and her manner had a gracious old-fashioned courtesy
which was full of charm. She had been thrown from a carriage the year
before, and had never since been able to come downstairs or to mingle
in the family life.

"They come to me instead," she told Katy. "There is no lack of pleasant
company," she added; "every one is very good to me. I have a reader for
two hours a day, and I read to myself a little, and play Patience and
Solitaire, and never lack entertainment."

There was something restful in the sight of such a lovely specimen of
old age. Katy realized, as she looked at her, what a loss it had been