"'Look, Jennie,' he said.
"And then, Uncle George, he looked up at the sky out of the top of the Tower, and bent his knee and crossed himself three times, like this."
Over her young breast her hand did what his had done.
"'And you promise it wasn't your fault?' I said.
"'That was my promise, Jennie,' he said.
"'Then,' I said, 'I don't want to hear another word about it. I won't listen. You're not to tell me any more.'
"So I wouldn't listen, and when he opened his mouth I just did this——"
And laughingly, with her hands tight over her ears, she shook her head. She would no more peep behind his word than she would have peeped into his note.
"And all this was yesterday?"
"Yes."