"Did you ever catch her crying?"

"Once," replied grandma, with a smile; "and then she kept her
handkerchief at her face. I was quite disappointed, for I couldn't tell
which eye she cried out of."

"Please tell some more," said Dotty.

"They said Mrs. Knowles was often seen in a high wind riding off on a
broomstick. It ought to have been a strong broomstick, for she was a very
large woman."

"Why, grandma," said Prudy, thrusting her hook into a stitch, "I can't
help thinking what queer days you lived in! Now, when I talk to _my_
grandchildren, I shall tell them of such beautiful things; of swings and
picnics, and Christmas trees."

"So shall I to _my_ grandchildren," said Dotty; "but not always. I shall
have to look sober sometimes, and tell 'em how I had the sore throat, and
couldn't swallow anything but boiled custards and cream toast. 'For,'
says I, 'children, it was _very_ different in those days.'"

"Ah, well, you little folks look forward, and we old folks look
backward; but it all seems like a dream, either way, to me," said
grandma Read, binding off the thumb of her little red mitten--"like a
dream when it is told."

"Speaking of telling dreams, grandma, I had a funny one last night," said
Prudy, "about a queer old gentleman. Guess who it was."

"Thy grandfather, perhaps. Does thee remember, Alice, how thee used to
sit on his knee and comb his hair with a toothpick?"

"I don't think 'twas me," said Dotty; "for I wasn't born then."

"It was I," replied Prudy. "I remember grandpa now, but I didn't use to.
It wasn't grandpa I dreamed about--it was Santa Claus."

Grandma smiled, and raised her spectacles to the top of her forehead.

"We never talked about fairies in my day," said she. "I never heard of a
Santa Claus when I was young."

"Well, grandma, he came down the chimney in a coach that looked like a
Quaker bonnet on wheels--but he was all a-dazzle with gold buttons; and
what do you think he said?"

"Something very foolish, I presume."

"He said, 'Miss Prudy, I'm going to be married.' Only think! and he such
a very old bachelor."

"Did thee dream out the bride?"

"It was Mother Goose."

"Very well," said Mrs. Read, smiling. "I should think that was a very
good match."

"She did look so funny, grandma, with a great hump on her nose, and one
on her back! Santa Claus kissed her; and what do you think she said?"

"I am sure I can't tell; I am not acquainted with thy fairy folks."

"Wh