he will write a poem--I know he will--that will tell your goodness to babes unborn." [Here Master Gridley groaned, and repeated to himself silently, "Scindentur vestes gemmae frangentur et aurum, Carmina quam tribuent fama perennis erit." All this inwardly, and without interrupting the worthy woman's talk.] "And if ever Gifted makes a book,--don't say anything about it, Mr.
Gridley, for goodness' sake, for he wouldn't have anybody know it, only I can't help thinking that some time or other he will print a book,--and if he does, I know whose name he'll put at the head of it,--'Dedicated to B.G., with the gratitude and respect--' There, now, I had n't any business to say a word about it, and it's only jest in case he does, you know.

I'm sure you deserve it all.

You've helped him with the best of advice.

And you've been kind to me when I was in trouble.

And you've been like a grandfather" [Master Gridley winced,--why could n't the woman have said father ?--that grand struck his ear like a spade going into the gravel] "to those babes, poor little souls! left on my door-step like a couple of breakfast rolls,--only you know it's the baker left then.