“By cracky, other folks’ families get written up when they visit. I don’t see why mine can’t,” he said with a firm nod of the head.

Papa asked him if there was anything he’d like to have before they drove on, and Grandpa looked rather wistfully at the horse and carriage.

“I sure would like to handle them reins for about ten minutes,” he said. “I haven’t laid hands on the reins since I been here. Good trotter?”

Papa boasted of the horse’s speed, mouth, coat, and general virtues, but then everything that was in any way connected with Papa automatically became superior to all other things of the kind. This horse, he said, was the finest horse in the county, possibly the state. He declared if he had this horse under his care for, say, four weeks he could make her the finest racing nag in the country and Grandpa gravely agreed that this was possible. They examined the points of the animal together and Papa was a little annoyed when Grandpa found a mark on the left hind leg, so Grandpa hastily said the flaw would very likely pass away in a day or two.

“Tell you what, Harry,” he said. “You might send me a picture postcard from London Junction. Some of the fellows have quite a collection.”

This promise having been given, the old gentleman looked meditatively down at the children and stroked his white moustache. The children beamed back, pleased with his having only one eye and only one leg from the Civil War.

“Harry, maybe you could spare me a little change so as to give the kids something. I don’t get my pension till next week.”

Their father reached in his pocket and gave him some pennies and a nickel. The old man promptly presented a penny apiece to the two older girls and a nickel to the baby. Marcia and Lena watched their mother pocket the latter.

“Florrie always gets the most,” said Marcia.

They regarded their baby sister speculatively.

“Babies got to have money for chewing tobacco,” their grandfather said, winking his one eye.

“Thank you so much, Father,” said their mother earnestly. “I’ve started a bank account for the baby, and would you believe it, she already has nearly fourteen dollars in it?”

They climbed back in the surrey, while Grandpa made a hurried survey of the grounds to find Captain Somebody who was in charge and a very fine man it would be a pleasure for them to meet. Disappointed in this, he followed them a few yards, calling out last messages.

“Don’t bother about the picture postcards if it’s going to be too much trouble, Harry,” he said. “It ain’t a matter of life and death. And say—if they print a piece about you visiting me in the Home Weekly next week, I’ll send it to you. There’s a lot of reading matter in it, so it’s worth having anyway. I always save it in my personal belongings.”