Owing to her advanced age, Grandma Adams' death
could hardly be supposed to have been unlooked for, yet so it was.
For so many years had she occupied her accustomed place in the family
circle with health seemingly unimpaired, that her children had almost
forgotten to realize that a day _must_ come when she would be removed
from their midst, and the place which then knew her would know her no
more forever. Very silent and gloomy was the old farm-house, during the
days Grandma Adams lay shrouded for the grave. A hush seemed to have
fallen over the darkened rooms, and the soft footsteps of friends and
neighbors as they quietly passed in and out, all told the story of death
and bereavement. Funeral preparations were something for which the Widow
Green seemed peculiarly adapted, and her presence was ever sought in the
house of mourning. She was a very worthy woman, and much respected by
the people of Fulton, among whom she had resided for many years; but
along with many estimable qualities she had also her failings and weak
points; she had an undue zest for whatever partook of the marvellous or
mysterious, her education was extremely limited, and her method of
reasoning was not always most clear and logical.
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