Nan could not exactly understand at last why Mrs. Jake and Mrs. Martin always asked about her grandmother every morning with so much interest and curiosity, or why they came oftener and oftener to help with the heavy work.  Mrs. Thacher had never before minded her occasional illnesses so much, and some time passed before Nan’s inexperienced eyes and fearless young heart understood that the whole atmosphere which overhung the landscape of her life had somehow changed, that another winter approached full of mystery and strangeness and discomfort of mind, and at last a great storm was almost ready to break into the shelter and comfort of her simple life.  Poor Nan!  She could not think what it all meant.  She was asked many a distressing question, and openly pitied, and heard her future discussed, as if her world might come to an end any day.  The doctor had visited her grandmother from time to time, but always while she was at school, until vacation came, and poor Mrs. Thacher grew too feeble to enter into even a part of the usual business of the farmhouse.

One morning, as Nan was coming back from the Dyer farm with the milk, she met Mrs. Meeker in the highway.  This neighbor and our heroine were rarely on good terms with each other, since Nan had usually laid herself under some serious charge of wrong-doing, and had come to believe that she would be disapproved in any event, and so might enjoy life as she chose, and revel in harmless malice.

The child could not have told why she shrank from meeting her enemy so much more than usual, and tried to discover some refuge or chance for escape; but, as it was an open bit of the road, and a straight way to the lane, she could have no excuse for scrambling over the stone wall and cutting short the distance.  However, her second thought scorned the idea of running away in such cowardly fashion, and not having any recent misdemeanor on her conscience, she went forward unflinchingly.

Mrs. Meeker’s tone was not one of complaint, but of pity, and insinuating friendliness.  “How’s your grandma to-day?” she asked, and Nan, with an unsympathetic answer of “About the same,” stepped bravely forward, resenting with all her young soul the discovery that Mrs. Meeker had turned and was walking alongside.

“She’s been a good, kind grandma to you, hain’t she?” said this unwelcome companion, and when Nan had returned a wondering but almost inaudible assent, she continued, “She’ll be a great loss to you, I can tell you.  You’ll never find nobody to do for you like her.  There, you won’t realize nothing about it till you’ve got older’n you be now; but the time’ll come when”—­and her sharp voice faltered; for Nan had turned to look full in her face, had stopped still in the frozen road, dropped the pail unconsciously and given a little cry, and in another moment was running as a chased wild creature does toward the refuge of its nest.  The doctor’s horse was fastened at the head of the lane, and Nan knew at last, what