“Yes.”
“Well, that’s nice; let me get another card to wind that skein on, when I have done this; I hope it is a long story, I hope it is funny, I hope there ain’t any ‘moral’ in it. Katy Smith’s mother always puts a moral in; I don’t like morals, do you, mother?”
Susy’s mother laughed, and said that she didn’t like them when she was her age.
“There now—there—I’m ready, now begin; but don’t say ‘Once on a time,’ I hate ‘Once on a time;’ I always know it is going to be a hateful story when it begins ‘Once on a time.’”
“Any thing more, Susy?”
“Yes, mother: don’t end it, ‘They lived ever after in peace, and died happily.’ I hate that, too.”
“Well, upon my word. I did not know I had such a critic for a listener. I am afraid you will have to give me a longer time to think, so that I can fix up my story a little.”
“No, mother, that’s just what I don’t want. I like it best unfixed.”
“Well, the first thing I remember was one bitter cold Thanksgiving morning, in November. My mother had told me the night before that the next day was Thanksgiving, and that we were all invited to spend it ten miles out of town, at the house of a minister in the country.”
“Horrid!” said Susy; “I know you had an awful time. I am glad I wasn’t born, then. Well—what else?”