"My name is Amity Bogardus," said Amity, as Mrs. Franklin paused. "I saw Johnny only once, in New York, but he knew me again directly."
"Yes, he has a good memory for those people who are kind to him. He has often spoken of you."
"Has he always been as he is now?" Amity ventured to ask.
"He has always been a little peculiar, but he has been much worse since his mother died. He was very sick with the same fever that killed her, and since then, his mind has failed a great deal."
"He told me he used to know how to knit," said Amity.
"Yes, and I mean to try to have him taught again, but I am not a knitter myself, I am sorry to say."
"Perhaps I could teach him," said Amity. "I know how to knit pretty well, and I have taught two or three children. I would not mind trying, if you liked."
"You are very kind," said Mrs. Franklin, looking much pleased, "but I am afraid you would find it a great deal of trouble."
"I don't mind trouble, if only I could do it," said Amity; "but there would be no harm in trying—would there, do you think?"
"None at all, if your parents are willing; but you must ask them first."