Elizabeth, Her Folks

'Nothing ever tasted so good to me in my life'
COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THAT OF TRANSLATION INTO FOREIGN LANGUAGES, INCLUDING THE SCANDINAVIAN

ELIZABETH, HER FOLKS
John's Girl
A little girl in a short-sleeved, blue ruffled nightgown flung herself across the foot of Grandmother Swift's great guest-chamber bed, and sobbed as if her heart would break.
Downstairs, each in an old-fashioned, valanced rocking chair before one of the living-room windows, Grandfather and Grandmother Swift were discussing the newcomer.
I think she seems real glad to be here, Grandmother was saying. She looks a little pale and peaked, but we'll soon have her fed up and as brown as a berry.
I never see any brown berries. All the berries I ever had anything to do with was red or blue, but there must be berries that is brown, if you say so, Mother.
Grandmother's amber needles flew.