"It will be good for the fern to have a little dampness in the air. You cry, and I'll knit a spell."
"You tease just about as much as Grandfather does, don't—don't you? Only you're so—so sly about it, nobody realizes it."
"Ain't that our ring on the telephone?"
"I don't know. I just sit here and let it ring all the time. I forget to count whether it's fifteen or fourteen."
"Land, fourteen will wake me up out of a sound sleep when I'm to bed upstairs. And I don't never hear fifteen no more'n if it hadn't sounded."
"It is fourteen," Elizabeth said, as the imperious instrument sounded one long and four short signals distinctly. "I'll answer."
"Elizabeth, where have you been all day?" Peggy's voice inquired. "I particularly want to see you about something, but Mother insists it's too late for me to come over."
"I went swimming with Moses," Elizabeth said, "and finished Madget's sweater, and made a chocolate cake. What is it that you've got to tell me?"
"I can't tell you very well over the phone."
"Is it pleasant or unpleasant?"