Just at daylight the next morning there came a knock at his door.

“Come, George—­time to get up!”

When he came in from feeding his horses a splendid breakfast was on the table.

“Here’s your basin, George; go out and have a good wash.  Here’s your comb; it’s been lost for quite awhile.  I put a towel out there for you, too.  Hurry up now and get your vittles while they are nice!”

When Shaw came to the table she regarded him with pleasure.

“You’re a fine-looking boy, George, when you’re slicked up,” she said.  “Now bow your head until we say grace!  There, now pitch in and tell me how you like grandma’s cooking.”

Shaw ate heartily and praised everything.

A few days afterwards she said, “Now, George, I guess I’ll have to ask you to go to town and get some things we need for the house.”

Shaw readily agreed, and took out his paper and pencil.

“Soap, starch, ten yards of cheesecloth—­that’s for curtains,” she said.  “I’ll knit lace for them, and they’ll look real dressy; toilet soap, sponge and nailbrush—­that’s for your bath, George; you haven’t been taking them as often as you should, or the hoops wouldn’t have come off your tub.  You can’t cheat Nature, George; she always tells on you.  Ten yards flannelette—­that’s for night-shirts; ten yards sheeting—­that’s for your bed—­and your white shirts are pretty far gone.”

“How do you know?” he asked in surprise; “they are all in my trunk.”

“Yes, I know, and the key is in that old cup on the stand, and I know how to unlock a trunk, don’t I?” she replied with dignity.  “You need new shirts all right, but just get one.  I never could abear them boughten shirts, they are so skimpy in the skirt; I’ll make you some lovely ones, with blue and pink flossin’ down the front.”

He looked up alarmed.

“Then about collars,” she went on serenely.  “You have three, but they’re not in very good shape, though, of course, you couldn’t expect anything better of them, kept in that box with the nails—­oh, I found them, George, you needn’t look so surprised.  You see I know something about boys—­I have three of my own.”  A shadow passed over her face and she sighed.  “Well, I guess that is all for to-day.  Be sure to get your mail and hurry home.”

“Shall I tell the postmaster to put your mail in my box?” he asked.

“Oh, no, never mind—­I ain’t expectin’ any,” she said, and Shaw drove away wondering.

A few nights after she said, “Well, George, I suppose you are wonderin’ now who this old lady is, though I am not to say real old either.”

“Indeed you are not old,” Shaw declared with considerable gallantry; “you are just in your prime.”