"I can't tell how it is, sir," she mourned, raising her faded eyes
under the widow's cap to the kind old face above her, "I thought there
was enough to educate my grandchild; it wasn't a big sum, but I
supposed it was quite sufficient; but now it appears to be almost gone,
and I have only just enough to keep me." She didn't add that the
curate, her husband, when he crept into his grave, in the English
churchyard, had left her nothing but the memory of his good name, her
small means coming as a legacy from some of his grateful friends, they,
too, long since dead.
Old Mr. King made no comment, only passed on with a few little leading
remarks when the information seemed to be on the wane. And then he said
he thought he would like a game of backgammon, and he challenged the
parson to come on and be beaten. And at an early hour the party broke
up. "For remember," said Grandpapa, for about the fiftieth time that
day, "it's Antwerp to-morrow!"
So it was at Antwerp that the whole splendid business was concluded.
And when the story of it came out, there was a regular jubilee all
around. For were not Adela and Adela's grandmother going with the King
party around a bit more on the continent, and then off to Paris again,
and back to the beloved school--Grandpapa's gift to the girl with the
talent, to keep it alive!
And the little widow, stunned at first by the magnitude of the gift,
could do nothing but feebly protest, "Oh, no, sir!" and put up both
shaking hands to ward off the benefaction.
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