mira,
New York.]

At this time the Van de Grift family were living in a house on
Illinois Street. This house had a cellar door at the back. To quote
the words of her schoolmate, Ella Hale: "At this cellar door the
children used to gather to hear fairy and ghost stories. Fanny was
always the central figure, because she was the only one who could tell
really interesting stories. These gatherings always took place after
supper, and as the shadows grew darker and darker during the recital
of a particularly thrilling ghost story, I clearly remember the
fearful glances toward the dark corners and the crowding closer
together of the little ones, till it sometimes resulted in a
landslide, and we would find ourselves in a heap on the ground at the
foot of the slanting door, our laughter quickly dispelling all our
fears."

Among Fanny's playmates there was a dark, handsome boy, with large,
melancholy eyes, named George Marshall, who was not only exceedingly
attractive in looks but had many other graces. He was a born artist,
and could dance, and act, and sing like an angel; and, best of all, he
was as good as he was charming. These two were close companions in all
sorts of strenuous sports, and nothing annoyed them more than to have
little teasing Josephine, Fanny's younger sister, trailing after them
and breaking up their games. George finally announced that he would
play no more unless Josephine could be kept away. But boys change, and
when he grew up he married Josephine.

[Illustration: The Van de Grift residence at the corner of Illinois
and Washington Streets, Indianapolis.]

All too soon came the time when these days of careless childish joys
were brought to a close. A new era opened, and romance, which budded
early in that time and place, began to unfold its first tender leaves.
Various youths of the town, attracted by the piquant prettiness and
sparkling vivacity of the eldest daughter, began to haunt the Van de
Grift house. In the sentimental fashion of the day, these sighing
swains carved her name on the trees, and so wide was the circle of
her fascination that there was scarcely a tree in the place that did
not bear somewhere on its long-suffering trunk the name or initials of
Fanny Van de Grift. None of these suitors, however, made any
impression on the object of their attentions, who was so much of a
child that she was walking on stilts in the garden when Samuel
Osbourne first called at the house