"Their child's married." "It must have married very young, then," said Pomona, "for it isn't over four years old now." "Oh!" said Euphemia, "I know! It's his grandchild." "Grandchild!" repeated Pomona, with her countenance more expressive of emotion than I had ever yet seen it.
"Yes," said Euphemia; "but how long are they going to stay?
Where did you tell them we were ?" "They didn't say how long they was goin' to stay," answered Pomona.

"I told them you had gone to be with some friends in the country, and that I didn't know whether you'd be home to-night or not." "How could you tell them such a falsehood ?" cried Euphemia.
"That was no falsehood," said Pomona; "it was true as truth.

If you're not your own friends, I don't know who is.

And I wasn't a-goin' to tell the boarder where you was till I found out whether you wanted me to do it or not.

And so I left 'em and run over to old John's, and then down here." It was impossible to find fault with the excellent management of Pomona.
"What were they doing ?" asked Euphemia.
"I opened the parlor, and she was in there with the child,--putting it to sleep on the sofa, I think.