"You can read it as well upside down," observed Peletiah.
"I know it." Grandma beamed at him.
"Just think of that child a-writin' that! Who'd ever b'lieve it?"
"I must go now," announced Peletiah, getting out of his chair and beginning to stretch slowly.
"Well, now tell your ma I thank her for comin', and for them letters from them precious childern. An' see here." Grandma leaned over and pulled out the under drawer of the little stand. It wasn't like giving peppermints to Joel Pepper, and it sent a pang through her at the remembrance, but Peletiah had been good to read those letters.
"I'm a-goin' to give you these," she said, beginning to shake therefrom into her hand three big, white peppermints and two red ones.
"No, I thank you, ma'am," said Peletiah stiffly, and standing quite still.
"Yes, you take 'em," said Grandma decidedly. "You've been real good to read them letters. Here, Peletiah."
"No, I thank you, ma'am," said Peletiah again, not offering to stir. "Well, I must be going," and he went slowly out of the kitchen, leaving Grandma with the big peppermints in her hand.
That evening, after everything was quiet at the parsonage, the minister called his wife into the study.