"Yes, Grandmother."

"Try to remember also that if you put your hand behind a candle you
can blow it out without scattering hot grease on the wall paper."

"Yes, Grandmother"

"There is one other thing, if I may have your patience. You are not
required to be a Columbus to discover that there is a basket for
soiled linen in your bedroom. It is a large one and eager to fulfill
its function. The floor of your clothes closet is intended for your
shoes only. Will you be so good as to make a note of these things?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

Ink, candle grease, wash basket--what did they matter in the scheme
of life, with spring tapping at the window? With a huge effort Joan
forced back a wild burst of insurrection, and remained standing in
what she hoped was the correct attitude of a properly repentant
child. "How long can I stand it?" she cried inwardly. "How long
before I smash things and make a dash for freedom?"

"Now go back and finish reading to your grand father."

And once more, trembling with anger and mortification, the girl
picked her way over the limp and indifferent skins, took up the
paper and sat down. Once more her clear, fresh voice, this time with
a little quiver in it, fitted in to the regular tick of the
querulous clock, the near-by chatter of birds' tongues and the hiss
of burning logs.