I often called to them, as I had been wont to do, especially in the night, and shed many tears because they came no more to answer me.

Aunt Deel did not often refer directly to my talents, but I saw, many times, that no-wonder-they-died look in her face.
Children are great rememberers.

They are the recording angels--the keepers of the book of life.

Man forgets--how easily!--and easiest of all, the solemn truth that children do _not_ forget.
A few days after I arrived in the home of my aunt and uncle I slyly entered the parlor and climbed the what-not to examine some white flowers on its top shelf and tipped the whole thing over, scattering its burden of albums, wax flowers and sea shells on the floor.

My aunt came running on her tiptoes and exclaimed: "Mercy! Come right out o' here this minute--you pest!" I took some rather long steps going out which were due to the fact that Aunt Deel had hold of my hand.