She talked and talked and talked and talked!




GRANDMA KEELER GETS GRANDPA READY FOR SUNDAY-SCHOOL

BY SARAH P. McLEAN GREENE


Sunday morning nothing arose in Wallencamp save the sun.

At least, that celestial orb had long forgotten all the roseate flaming
of his youth, in an honest, straightforward march through the heavens,
ere the first signs of smoke came curling lazily up from the Wallencamp
chimneys.

I had retired at night, very weary, with the delicious consciousness
that it wouldn't make any difference when I woke up the next morning, or
whether, indeed, I woke at all. So I opened my eyes leisurely and lay
half-dreaming, half-meditating on a variety of things.

I deciphered a few of the texts on the scriptural patchwork quilt which
covered my couch. There were--"Let not your heart be troubled,"
"Remember Lot's wife," and "Philander Keeler," traced in inky
hieroglyphics, all in close conjunction.

Finally I reached out for my watch, and, having ascertained the time of
day, I got up and proceeded to dress hastily enough, wondering to hear
no signs of life in the house.