'I seem to be a most ignorant person, Nannie; the only thing I really know about is the family.'
'Well, write a book about that, dearie, I'm sure it's mad enough.'
'But then there wouldn't be a plot.'
'No more there is in most people's lives, not the women's, anyway.'
'Has your life been very dull, darling?' I asked.
'My life,' said Nannie solemnly, 'has been one large hole with bits of stocking round that I have had to try and draw together.'
When Ross came up his remarks about his bed were of so sulphurous a character that I swear I could almost see the brimstone blowing under my door. And in the silent watches of the night I decided that my book shall be about the family, from the time it was born to the day it was buried. Surely something in the nature of a plot will turn up in between.
CHAPTER II
To begin at the beginning. When I was waiting to be born I must have run up to God and said,—
'Please, could this little boy come, too?'