"Come over here and tell me about it," she invited, and led the way to the Eating Apple tree. And she sat down in the swing! Of course, whatever difference of condition exists between your grandmother and yourself vanishes when she sits down casually in your swing.
Well, Grandmother Beers was one who knew how to play with us, and I was always half expecting her to propose a new game. But that day, as she sat in the swing, her eyes were not twinkling at the corners.
"What does it mean?" she asked us. "What does wicked mean?"
"It's what you aren't to be."
I took the brunt of the reply, because I was the relative of the questioner.
"Why not?" asked grandmother.
"Why not?" Oh, we all knew that. We responded instantly, and out came the results of the training of all the families.
"Because your Mother and your Father say you can't," said Betty Rodman.
"Because it makes your mother feel bad," said Calista.
"Because God don't want us to," said I.