celebrate. "So we'll call it my party," she
said. "We'll sit together and eat and discuss old times. It's going to
be my party."
"Wonderful, Charlotte," said my father. "Here's my bill."
"Oh, no, — I didn't mean it that way," gasped Mrs. Greene
completely taken aback.
There was a time during my childhood when the Greener
were frequently at our house for Sunday dinner. Their son Laddy, about
my age, came also, and I'm afraid we gave him a rather rough time. He
never adjusted to our unruly behavior, and if
one of us was ill-mannered he would reprimand the offender. "You're very
rude — very rude," he often told me.
Laddy must have found some pleasure at our house however, because
as he was leaving he invariably shook my mother by the hand and asked,
"When may I come again, Ruth?"
His habit of addressing his mother's contemporaries by their
first names always annoyed us children. However, my mother
had no objections and she would set a date and Laddy would go off
On one of his visits we nearly got into trouble. I persuaded
him to climb a long ladder and stayed close behind him in case
he might slip. Two-thirds of the way up he looked around to see
if I was still there, and when he realized how far away he was
from the ground he went into a state of panic, refusing to move either
up or down. He screamed in terror as I tried to urge him
"It's all right Laddy," I told him. "I'm right here — I won't let
My words went unheeded and he continued to scream. Mrs. Greene
heard the commotion and came on the run, and she no