Then Mrs. Young said, “I get one of my brother’s old guns, go out of the back door and creep up behind the burglars.”Mrs. Young smiled. “Try to open the door with the key,” she said. Her daughter did this. The key made a lot of noise, but it didn’t open the door.
One Sunday one of daughters went to Mrs. Young’s house. She saw a key on the ground at the side of the front door. “Mother!” she said, “You mustn’t put your key there. That’s the worst place. Burglars can see it and open the door!
Her children were not happy. They said,” There are a lot of burglars here now. Maybe one of them will come into her house and take her money and her nice things”.
Mr. and Mrs. Young’s small house was in a village, but their children’s houses were in a town. Then Mr. Young died. Mrs. Young was eighty-five years old, and her children said to her, “Come and live in the town near us, Mother. Or come and live in one of our houses.” But she said, “No, I’m not going to go to the town. I’m going to remain here.”
Did Mr. and Mrs. Young’s children live with them?