Besides, if she has children, she'll be planning for them." "Isn't that rather slow ?" Humility wondered where the child had picked up the word.
"Slow ?" she echoed, with her eyes on the horizon beyond the dunes.
"Most things are slow when you look forward to them." "But these fairy-tales of yours ?" "I'll tell you about them.

When my mother was a girl of sixteen she went into service as a nursemaid in a clergyman's family.
Every evening the clergyman used to come into the nursery and tell the children a fairy-tale.

That's how it started.

My mother left service to marry a farmer--it was quite a grand match for her--and when I was a baby she told the stories to me.

She has a wonderful memory still, and she tells them capitally.