"Who gave you the pretty pail, Billy?" asked Aunt Lida, who was
sitting by the crib.
"Tattah," said Billy, in a whisper. He always whispers my name.
"Then go and kiss dear auntie. She is going away on the big boat to
stay such a long time."
Billy's face sobered. Then he dropped his precious pail, and came and
licked my face like a little dog, which is his way of kissing.
I squeezed him until he yelled.
"Don't let him forget me," I wailed. "Talk to him about me every day.
And buy him a toy out of my money often, and tell him Tattah sent it
to him. Oh, oh, he'll be grown up when I come home!"
"Don't cry, dearie," said Aunt Lida, handing me her handkerchief.
"I'll see that your grave is kept green."
My sister appeared at the door. She was all ready to start. She even
had her veil on.
"What do you mean by exciting Billy so at this time of night?" she
said. "Go out, all of you. We'll lose the train. Hush, somebody's at
the telephone. Papa's talking to that same man again." I jumped up and
ran out.
"Let me answer it, papa dear! Yes, yes, yes, certainly.
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