“Grandpa,” broke in Rosa, heedless of Mrs. Gray’s irascible tongue, “what does she mean about mother going away?”

“Why, I don’t know, child; I ain’t heard no talk about her leavin’, but then I git things so mixed up since Tom died.”

“Rosa Browning, I didn’t call you in here to ask foolish questions.  I want you to deliver this package, and quick, too.  If you hadn’t talked so much, you could be well on your way by this time.  It goes to that lady over on Lake Avenue, where I sent you once before.”

“Oh, where I heard the beautiful music?”

“Yes, but don’t you loiter on your way to listen to no music!  Fine music ain’t for the likes of us here on Burton street.  It’s a shame fer me to have to pay your carfare, but I ’spose you can’t carry that big package so far.  If you’d spend a little more time a-workin’, and a little less a-lookin’ after your ma, you’d have more strength, I won’t have it said that I git work done fer nothin’, so I’ll give you ten cents besides.  You git a piece of beefsteak with it, and I’ll broil it fer your ma’s supper.  You couldn’t fix it fit to eat, nohow.  I hope to goodness she won’t cough all night and keep me awake.”

“Oh, thank you, Mis’ Gray, you are so kind,” delightedly exclaimed Rosa, her wan little face lighting up with genuine pleasure at the thought that mother was going to have something good for supper.

“Now do be gone, and don’t talk no more.  You’re enough to set me crazy, you and father.”

“I’m off now, Mis’ Gray.  Goodby, grandpa dear,” she affectionately said, kissing the old man’s withered cheek, for these two children of the tenement, the one eight and the other eighty, were the best of friends.

“Rosa,” called once again Mrs. Gray’s shrill voice, as the child was making her way across the dark hall, “come back here!”

“Yes’m, Mis’ Gray, here I am.”

“You’re so awful careless, you see to it that you don’t lose that money I give you.  If you do, you’ll be sorry.  You won’t git the pay fer the work; I wouldn’t trust you with that, nohow.  Now hurry up and don’t waste another minute!  Wait! can’t you give me a chance to tell you what I want?  You’re so provokin’.  Be sure to tell your ma where you’re goin’, and that it’ll take you about an hour and a half.  I don’t want her a-gettin’ scared and a-hollerin’ ‘round and a-sendin’ some one after you, like she did that day you didn’t git home till dark.  She acted ridiculous, as if she thought you never would come back.  I couldn’t fer the life of me see what made her do so; it was real silly, and I told her so at the time.  I did think, though, that you’d ought to be licked fer not hurryin’ up more, but she jest kissed you and cried all the more when I said so.  Go and tell her now, and be sure you don’t drop that package in the dirt.”

This time Rosa started on a run, lest she might be called back once more.  She feared the tyrant, but vainly endeavored to love her for grandpa’s sake.  He so often told her that “Sary was a good woman, yes, a very good woman.”