GRANDMOTHER

ONE fine October afternoon some years ago, my sister
and I, happening to be in Germantown, that beautiful sub-
urb of Philadelphia, went to call upon our well-remembered
classmate Elsie G——. We found her and her two sisters,
Helen and Mary, at home in the sunny, quaintly windowed
living-room—and three very lovely girls they were. After
they and their grandmother had given us a hearty wel-
come, Elsie said:

“Girls, Grandmother was just going to tell us some-
thing about Patty Burlock, as you came in. Would n’t
you like to hear it?”

We assured her that we should be delighted,—and

o
g
Grandmama, after a little coaxing, began:

“Tt is only a simple incident that came to my mind a
few moments back, hardly worth telling to an audience of
five. It occurred at a church wedding that I attended
eighteen—dear me! twenty-two years ago. T knew the
bride and Patty too, as I was telling the children” (here,
Grandmama looked beamingly at Helen, Elsie, and Mary).
“Well, the long and short of it is, little Patty did speak right
out loud in the middle of the ceremony.

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