face.

"Oh, it makes me so lonesome when you sing that way," wailed the Little
Colonel. "I just can't 'tand it! Mom Beck, is my mothah's heart all
broken? Is that why she is sick so much, and will it kill her suah
'nuff?"

"Who's been tellin' you such nonsense?" asked the woman, sharply.

"Some ladies at the hotel were talkin' about it. They said that
gran'fathah didn't love her any moah, an' it was just a-killin' her."
Mom Beck frowned fiercely.

The child's grief was so deep and intense that she did not know just
how to quiet her. Then she said, decidedly, "Well, if that's all that's
a-troublin' you, you can jus' get down an' walk home on yo' own laigs.
Yo' mamma's a-grievin' 'cause yo' papa has to be away all the time.
She's all wo'n out, too, with the work of movin', when she's nevah been
used to doin' anything. But her heart isn't broke any moah'n my neck
is."

The positive words and the decided toss Mom Beck gave her head settled
the matter for the Little Colonel. She wiped her eyes and stood up much
relieved.

"Don't you nevah go to worryin' 'bout what you heahs," continued the
woman. "I tell you p'intedly you cyarnt nevah b'lieve what you heahs."

"Why doesn't gran'fathah love my mothah?" asked the child, as they came
in sight of the cottage. She had puzzled over the knotty problem all the