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with her hand on my shoulder, but more and more slowly At last she

stopped before the fire, and said, afterat it

so to wish her many happy returns, when she lifted her stick

"I don't suffer it to be spoken of I don't suffer those ere here

just now, or any one to speak of it They come here on the day, but they

dare not refer to it"

Of course I made no further effort to refer to it

"On this day of the year, long before you were born, this heap of

decay," stabbing with her crutched stick at the pile of cobwebs on the

table, but not touching it, "was brought here It and I have worn away

together The nawed at it, and sharper teeth than teeth of

ainst her heart as she stood looking

at the table; she in her once white dress, all yellow and withered; the

once white cloth all yellow and withered; everything around in a state

to crumble under a touch