THE GRANDMOTHER'S SHOE.
WHEN I was a child at school (said a friend of mine) my father had an attack of typhus fever; he had quite recovered again, and it was near the time of the holidays, when two servants took the infection; my parents, fearful of conveying it to me, did not write, and my boxes were packed before I knew how I was to be sent home.
My schoolfellows were gone, and in a disconsolate mood I was gazing into the square, when I was told to come into the drawing-room. There, in place of my nurse, who generally came to fetch me, I saw a stout, comely member of the Society of Friends; she was eating cake and wine with imperturbable gravity, and, when she had set down her glass, and smoothed out her gown upon her lap, she held out her hand, and said pleasantly,—
'Does thee remember me, friend?'
I looked at the matronly cloth shawl, the bonnet, with its pure white lining, the smooth gray hair and comfortable face, but could not remember where I had seen them before, till she added, 'What! doesn't thee remember Thomas W———'s housekeeper?'
