“Oh I’m so glad to see you,” she said as she drew away from me and shook back her hair.

“Golly! this is fun!” I said.

“Ask:  ‘How are the babies?’” she whispered.

“How are the babies?” I asked, feeling rather silly.

“They’re fine.  I’m just putting them to bed.”

We sat on the grass and she had a stick which she pretended to be dressing and often, after she had spanked the stick a little, she made a noise through closed lips like that of a child crying.

“Now go to sleep and I’ll tell you a story,” said she.

Then she told pretty tales of fairies and of grand ladies and noble gentlemen who wore gold coats and swords and diamonds and silks, and said wonderful words in such a wonderful way.  I dare say it prospered all the better in my ears because of the mystery by which its meanings were partly hidden.  I had many questions to ask and she told me what were fairies and silks and diamonds and grand ladies and noble gentlemen.

We sat down to one of our familiar dinners of salt pork and milk gravy and apple pie now enriched by sweet pickles and preserves and frosted cake.

A query had entered my mind and soon after we began eating I asked: 

“Aunt Deel, what is the difference between a boy and a girl?”

There was a little silence in which my aunt drew in her breath and exclaimed, “W’y!” and turned very red and covered her face with her napkin.  Uncle Peabody laughed so loudly that the chickens began to cackle.  Mr. and Mrs. Dunkelberg also covered their faces.  Aunt Deel rose and went to the stove and shoved the teapot along, exclaiming: 

“Goodness, gracious sakes alive!”

The tea slopped over on the stove.  Uncle Peabody laughed louder and Mr. Dunkelberg’s face was purple.  Shep came running into the house just as I ran out of it.  I had made up my mind that I had done something worse than tipping over a what-not.  Thoroughly frightened I fled and took refuge behind the ash-house, where Sally found me.  I knew of one thing I would never do again.  She coaxed me into the grove where we had another play spell.

I needed just that kind of thing, and what a time it was for me!  A pleasant sadness comes when I think of that day—­it was so long ago.  As the Dunkelbergs left us I stood looking down the road on which they were disappearing and saw in the sky and the distant, purple hills and sloping meadows the beauty of the world.  The roaring aeroplane of a humming bird whirled about me and sped through the hollyhock towers.  I followed and watched the tiny air-ship sticking its prow in their tops, as if it would have me see how wonderful they were, before it sped away.  Breast deep in the flowers I forgot my loneliness for a few minutes.  But that evening my ears caught a note of sadness in the voice of the katydids, and memory began to play its part with me.  Best of all I remembered the kisses and the bright blue eyes and the soft curly hair with the smell of roses in it.