“Would it be proper for me to neglect the friends who were faithful to me for years and years?” I asked. “I was an orphan and poor as a beggar, and they took me in to sit beside their hearths. They gave me the best they had; hospitality and love and learning. If I know anything at all, it is owing to them.”
“My dear,” said my grandmother, “you speak poetically.”
“I speak the truth.”
“You have a loyal heart.”
“Yes, madam grandmother, I admit it. When I once love, I can never forget.”
“How do you know? You are only a child.”
“I shall be like you,” I declared boldly. “I wish to be like you and never to forget!”
She looked at me sideways. Then she tilted her delicate chin and faced me straight.
“Azalea—last night—did you know? Did you see?”
“I saw, grandmother dear. Forgive me.”