dventures with. Margaret and her mother were basting shirts; John was
drawing plans on the dining-room table. He had found a place to work at
house-building and was studying architecture and draughting. A man had
come in to see her father, so she was left quite alone. The Deans and
several of the little girls on the block had gone visiting. She walked
up and down a while, thinking how strange the world was, and what
wonderful things had happened, vaguely feeling that there couldn't be
any to come in the future.

At the end of the week she and Margaret went up to White Plains, as
grandmother was anxious to see them.

Her grandmother was invested with a curious new interest in her eyes.
That any one belonging to her should have lived in the Revolutionary War
seemed a real stretch of the imagination for a little girl eight years
old. Grandmother considered _her_ wonderful also. She wasn't so much in
favor of short frocks and pantalets that came down to your ankles, but
the little girl did look pretty in them. And when she found how neatly
she could hemstitch and do such beautiful featherstitch, and darn, and
read so plainly that it was a pleasure to listen to her, she had to
admit that Hannah Ann was a real credit, and, she confessed in her
secret heart, a very sweet little girl.

"I've begun your new Irish chain patchwork," she said. "I've made one
block for a pattern, and cut out quite a pile. Aunt Eunice lighted upon
some beautiful green calico. I was upon a stand whether to have green or
red, but an Irish chain generally is pieced of green. It seems more
appropriate."

And yet people had not begun to sing "The Wearing of the Green."

"I declare," said Cousin Ann, "you're such an old-fashioned little thing
one can hardly tell which is the oldest, you or grandmother."

"Is it anything"--what should she say?--wrong or bad seemed too
forcible--"queer to be old-fashioned?"

"Well, yes, _queer_. But you're awful sweet and cunning, Hannah Ann, and
we'd just like to keep you forever."

With that she almost squeezed the breath out of the little girl and
kissed her a dozen times.

Grandmother could tell such wonderful stories as they sat and sewed. All
the glories of the old Underhill house, and the silver and plate that
had come over from England, and the set of real china that a sea
captain, one of the Underhills, had brought from China and how it had
taken three years to go there and come back. And the beautiful Ind