"It wasn't _your_ darns; it was just darns--anybody's darns.

Cyril won't wear darned socks.

Aunt Hannah told me so long ago, and I said then there'd be a tragedy when _you_ found it out.

So don't worry over that." "Oh, but that isn't all," moaned Marie.

"Listen! You know how quiet he must have everything when he's composing--and he ought to have it, too! But I forgot, this morning, and put on some old shoes that didn't have any rubber heels, and I ran the carpet sweeper, and I rattled tins in the kitchen.