"I feel I'm gettin' old.

Why, I'm sixty-one, come October." "Are you?
I shouldn't call you over fifty, from your looks, aunt.
Really I shouldn't." "I'm afraid you tell fibs sometimes," said Aunt Deborah, but she said it very graciously, and surveyed her nephew very kindly.

"Heigh ho! it's a good while since your poor father and I were children together, and went to the school-house on the hill.

Now he's gone, and I'm left alone." "Not alone, aunt.

If he is dead, you have got a nephew." "Well, Ferdinand, I'm glad to see you, and I shall be glad to have you pay me a good long visit.