"You won't ever tell?"
"No, Grandfather."
"Sure as shootin'?"
"Yes."
"Well, then—" but Grandfather kept shaking so he could not tell.
"Oh, Grandfather! Why didn't the cane sound on the stairs?"
"Whisht, boy! I just wrapped my old bandanna handkerchief around the end."
But worse than that time was the awful morning when you broke the blue pitcher that came over in the Mayflower. An old family law said you should never even touch it, where it sat on the shelf by the clock, but the Old Nick said it wouldn't hurt if you looked inside—just once. You had been munching bread-and-butter, and your fingers were slippery, and that is how the pitcher came to fall. Grandfather found you sobbing over the pieces, and his face was white.
"Sonny, Sonny, what have you done?"
"I—I d-didn't mean to, Grandfather."