rner, if she thought him too stupid to be a prophet.

I'll tell thee no more stories, she said to him, but he answered that he
did not want to hear her stories, and betwixt feelings of anger and
shame his head drooped, and he slept in his chair till the door opened
and his father's footsteps crossed the threshold.

Now, he said to himself, Granny will tell Father that I said I'd like to
be a prophet. And feigning sleep he listened, determined to hear the
worst that could be said of him. But they did not speak about him but of
the barrels of salt fish that were to go to Beth-Shemish on the morrow;
which was their usual talk. So he slipped from his chair and bade his
father good-night. A resentful good-night it was; and his good-night to
his grandmother was still more resentful. But she found an excuse for
his rudeness, saying that his head was full of sleep--a remark that
annoyed him considerably and sent him upstairs wishing that women would
not talk about things they do not understand. I'll ask Father in the
morning why Granny laughed at me for saying I'd like to be a prophet.
But as morning seemed still a long way ahead he tried to find a reason,
but could find no better one than that prophets were usually old men.
But I shall be old in time to come and have a beard. Father has a beard
and they can't tell that I won't have a beard, and a white one too, so
why should they--

His senses were numbing, and he must have fallen asleep soon after, for
when he awoke it seemed to him that he had been asleep a long time,
several hours at least, so many things had happened or seemed to have
happened; but as he recovered his mind all the dream happenings melted
away, and he could remember only his mother. She had been dead four
years, but in his dream she looked as she had always looked, and had
scolded Granny for laughing at him. He tried to remember what else she
had said but her words faded out of his mind and he fell asleep again.
In this second sleep an old man rose up by his bedside and told him that
he was the prophet Samuel, who though he had been dead a thousand years
had heard him say he would like to be a prophet. But shall I be a
prophet? Joseph asked, and as Samuel did not answer he cried out as
loudly as he could: shall I? shall I?

What ails thee, Son? he heard his grandmother calling to him, and he
answered: an old man, an old man. Ye are dreaming, she mumbled between
sleeping and waking. Go to sleep like a goo