"What, my pet!"

"You're not to die." Kezia was very decided.

"Ah, Kezia"--her grandma looked up and smiled and shook her head--"don't
let's talk about it."

"But you're not to. You couldn't leave me. You couldn't not be there."
This was awful. "Promise me you won't ever do it, grandma," pleaded Kezia.

The old woman went on knitting.

"Promise me! Say never!"

But still her grandma was silent.

Kezia rolled off her bed; she couldn't bear it any longer, and lightly she
leapt on to her grandma's knees, clasped her hands round the old woman's
throat and began kissing her, under the chin, behind the ear, and blowing
down her neck.

"Say never...say never...say never--" She gasped between the kisses. And
then she began, very softly and lightly, to tickle her grandma.

"Kezia!" The old woman dropped her knitting. She swung back in the
rocker. She began to tickle Kezia. "Say never, say never, say never,"
gurgled Kezia, while they lay there laughing in each other's arms. "Come,
that's enough, my squirrel! That's enough, my wild pony!" said old Mrs.
Fairfield, setting her cap straight. "Pick up my knitting."