David noticed that she even pricked herself in her anxiety to get the needle tucked away.

Then she drew him to a low stool at her side.
"David, I want you to tell me that story, please," she said, "just as Mr.Jack told it to you.

Now, be careful and put it all in, because I--I want to hear it," she finished, with an odd little laugh that seemed to bring two bright red spots to her cheeks.
"Oh, do you want to hear it?
Then I will tell it," cried David joyfully.

To David, almost as delightful as to hear a story was to tell one himself.

"You see, first--" And he plunged headlong into the introduction.
David knew it well--that story: and there was, perhaps, little that he forgot.