Big stones and little stars,
I almost know ... but what I know
Flies through the window-bars.
And downstairs, on the Telephone:
I, the absurdity,
Proving what cannot be.
Come, when you talk with me
Does it become you well
To doubt a miracle?
We did not understand all of them, but we liked them. And I am sure now that the inscriptions were partly responsible for the fact that in a little time, with Mary Elizabeth and me to give them encouragement, everything, indoors and out, had something to say to us. These things we did not confide to the others, not even to Margaret Amelia and Betty who, when we stood still to spell out the inscriptions, waited a respectful length of time and then plucked at our aprons and said: “Come on till we show you something,” which was usually merely a crass excuse to get us away.