“Shall I be big enough when I am six?”
“No, not till your eighteenth birthday.”
“But birthdays comes so slow. Will they come quicker when I am big?”
“Much quicker.”
On her sixth birthday Micah Dow drove my little maid to the school-house in the doctor’s gig, and she crept beneath the table and whispered—
“Grandfather!”
“Father told me to call you that if I liked, and I like,” she said when I had taken her upon my knee. “I know why you kissed me just now. It was because I looked like grandmother. Why do you kiss me when I look like her?”
“Who told you I did that?”
“Nobody didn’t tell me. I just found out. I loved grandmother too. She told me all the stories she knew.”