nd grandmother did try—for she did not want to disappoint Poppy. But somehow the two teeth would not go into the apple; they were too far apart, and there were no teeth below to help them; and so, after many attempts, the poor old woman was obliged to say she was afraid she could not manage it.

'If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again. That's a good rule, my dear; but it doesn't always answer, Poppy. But I'll tell you what, my little girl,' said she, as she noticed how disappointed the child was, 'I'll put it in the oven and bake it for my supper, and then I shall have a treat!'

'Oh, granny, I'm so glad!' said Poppy, throwing her arms around her neck—'I do love you so very much—you are so good to me!'

'Why, you're John Henry's bairn,' said granny, as she held her fast in her arms—'how could I help loving John Henry's bairn?'

'Polly, my dear,' said grandmother the next day to Poppy's mother, 'Polly, my dear, I'm going to take you home with me.'

But the sick woman shook her head.

'Don't shake your head, my dear,' said grandmother; 'I believe if I could put you down on the top of the moors, and if you could get the breezes off the heather, why, my lass, I believe you'd get well in no time!'

'You must ask the doctor, grandmother,' said Poppy's mother; 'he is coming to-day.'

So when the doctor had paid his usual visit, grandmother trotted after him downstairs.

'Now, doctor,' said she, 'I'll tell you what I'm going to do; I'm going to take her home with me. Country air is the best physic after all, now isn't it, doctor? You can't say anything against that, I'll be bound!'

But the doctor shook his head.

'Dear me, doctor,' said grandmother, 'don't you go and shake your head. Surely she'll be well enough to go in a week or ten days. Or maybe a fortnight or three weeks, doctor,' she added, as she saw that he looked very grave.

'My good woman,' said the doctor, 'you don't know how ill she is! It is only a question of time now.'

'You don't mean to say, doctor,' said grandmother, 'that she won't get better?'

'She may live a week,' said the doctor, as he put on his hat, 'but I do not think she will live so long.'

Poor old grandmother, it was a great downfall to her hopes; she had thought, and hoped, and believed, that the country air would soon make John Henry's wife well again, and now she was told that she had only a few days to live.

She could not go upstairs with such news as that. So she bustled about the kitchen, pretending to be busy, washing up the tea-things, and sweeping the fireside, and stopping every now and then to wipe away the tears that would come in her eyes. And all this time Poppy's mother was waiting, and listening, and wondering why grandmother did not come to tell her what the doctor had said.

At last she could wait no longer, but rapped on the floor with the stick which grandmother had put by her bedside.

Slowly, very slowly, the old woman went upstairs. But even when she was in the bedroom, she did not seem inclined to talk, but began to wash Enoch and Elijah, and never turned her face towards her daughter-in-law, lest she should see how tearful her eyes were.

'Grandmother,' said Poppy's mother at last, 'tell me what the doctor said.''He won't let me take you away, my lass,' said grandmother, shortly.

'Does he think I shall not live long?' asked the sick woman. 'Tell me what he said, grandmother, please.'

'He said you might perhaps live a week, my dear,' said grandmother, bursting into tears, and rocking Enoch and Elijah in her arms.

Poppy's mother did not speak, but she did just what king Hezekiah did when he got a similar message, she turned her face to the wall. Grandmother did not dare to look at her for some time, and when she did she saw that her pillow was wet with tears.

'Poor lass, poor lass!' she said tenderly; 'no wonder ye cannot help fretting; it's a fearsome thing to die, it is indeed.'

'Oh, it isn't that, grandmother,' said Poppy's mother; 'it isn't that. I was thinking about the poor children.'

'And what about the children, bless 'em?' said the old woman.'Why, I'm afraid it will go hardly with them in the House,' said the poor woman, beginning to cry afresh. 'They do say some of them old nurses are not over-good to babies, and they think 'em such a lot of trouble, poor little motherless dears! And there's Poppy, too; she's been ever such a good little girl to me, and she'll feel so lonesome-like in that big, rambling place. I don't suppose they'll let her be with the babies, for all she loves them so.'

'Now, Polly, my dear,' said grandmother, starting from her seat, 'never you say another word about that. If you think I'm going to let John Henry's bairns go into the Workhouse, why, my dear, you don't know what sort of stuff John Henry's mother is made of! Why, my lass, it would be throwing God Almighty's gifts back in His face. I've wearied for my twin babies all these years, and fretted and fumed because I'd lost them, and then as soon as He gives 'em back to me, I go and shove them off into the House! No, no, my dear,' said grandmother, 'I'm not such an old stupid as that. And as for Poppy, my lass, why, she'll be my right-hand woman! They shall come home with me, my dear, and I'll be their mother—dear, blessed little chaps—and Poppy shall be their nurse, and we'll all be as happy as ever we can be without you, my dear.'

'Oh, grandmother, it seems too good to be true,' said Poppy's mother; 'but you can never keep three children.'

'Yes, my dear, I can; my good man, he was careful and thrifty, and he saved a good tidy sum. And my lady's very good to me,—why, I live in the lodge rent free, and get my coals, and many's the coppers the folks in their carriages throws out, when I go to open the gate. You see it's a sort of a public road, my dear, and there's all kinds of folk goes by. So I've enough and to spare; only I'm lonesome often, and haven't nobody to speak to for hours together. And now the Lord's going to send me good company, and I shall be a happier woman than I've been since my good man died, and my John Henry went away; I shall indeed, my dear.'

Poppy's mother was almost too happy to answer her; a great load was lifted off her heart, and she lay quite still, with her eyes closed for some time, trying to tell her best Friend how grateful she was to Him for all He had done for her. Meanwhile, the poor old woman was rocking the babies in her arms, and wiping away the tears, which would come in her eyes as she thought of what the doctor had said.

Then Poppy came in, bright and happy, with a bunch of white roses in her hands, which Jack's friend the greengrocer had given him, and which he had sent to Poppy's mother. She was very much distressed to see her grandmother crying.

'What is it, granny, dear?' she said, putting her arms round her neck, and kissing her; 'are you poorly?'

'You had best tell her, grandmother,' said Poppy's mother; 'it will come less sudden-like on her after.'

But grandmother could not speak. She tried once or twice, but something in her throat seemed to choke her, and at length she laid the sleeping babies on the bed, buried her face in her apron, and went downstairs.

'What is it, mother?' said Poppy; 'did the doctor say you were worse?'

'Poppy,' said her mother, 'shall I tell you what the doctor said, my darling?'

'Yes, please, mother,' said the child.

'He said that in a few days more I should be quite well, Poppy; well and strong, like you, my dear—no more pain—no more weakness—for ever.'

'Then why does granny cry?' said Poppy, with a puzzled face.

'Because, darling, grandmother wanted me to go to her home and get well there; but instead of that, God is going to take me to His home, Poppy, to be well for ever and ever. Will you try to be glad for me, darling?''Yes, mother,' said little Poppy with a sob,—'I'll try; but, oh mother, I wish He'd take me too!'