Evans, Augusta J. (Augusta Jane), 1835-1909 / 2008-09-27 00:00:00

But do you really think I ever shall have
sense enough to be a teacher? You know I ought to learn everything,
and I have so few books."
"To be sure you will. Remember there is always a way where there's a
will. When I pay off the debt I owe Peter Wood, I will see what we
can do about some new books. Put on your shawl now, Pearl, and hunt
up old Brindle, it is milking time, and she is not in sight."
"Grandpa, are you sure you feel better this evening?" She plunged
her fingers in his thick white hair, and rubbed her round, rosy
cheek softly against his.
"Oh! yes, I am better. Hurry back, Pearl, I want you to read to me."
It was a bright day in January, and the old man sat in a large
rocking-chair on the porch, smoking his pipe, and sunning himself in
the last rays of the sinking sun. He had complained all day of not
feeling well, and failed to go to his work as usual; and now, as his
grandchild tied her pink calico bonnet under her chin, and wrapped
herself in her faded plaid shawl, he watched her with a tender,
loving light in his keen gray eyes.
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