“Marion!” the grandmother called up the little stairway. In answer to the call she came running.
“Yes, gramma.”
“Where’s those bamboo palms?”
“I’ll get them. Do you want them now?”
“Ride away.”
“All right.”
Madame Sano took them from her and showed the little girl how to dust the eaves with them.
“Bamboo means long life,” she explained. “I always clean the house with them, and the gods will deign long life to give.”
“The gods!” gasped Marion, reproachfully. “Oh, grandmamma!”
Madame Sano’s withered little face turned rosy. She had been from girlhood a Christian, as she was proud to say.