“Thank you,” Dimmie whispered, securing the prize. Mrs. Merwent put her arms around the child. “So you love Nannie, Jimmie?” she whispered back. He did not reply to this, but stood in rapt uncertainty contemplating the box of chocolates he held. “Come on. Let me untie it for you. Here, sit in my lap.” She lifted him up. “There! Aren’t they nice? You can eat one if you want to.” Dimmie placed a chocolate in his mouth. “Now, do you love Nannie?” she whispered again. “Yes,” said Dimmie. “Do you love me better than the people you saw today?” This, too, was spoken in a whisper. “Better than granpapa?” he inquired. “Yes.” “And Miss Storms?” “Yes, and the other woman.” “My new grandmamma?” “She’s not your grandmamma.” Dimmie replied stoutly: “Grandpapa said she was.” “Well, she isn’t. Nannie is your truly grandmamma. That woman only wants to be your grandmamma. Your papa’s mamma that you’ve never seen is your other grandmamma. This other woman at Miss Storms’ isn’t any relation to you. A little boy can’t have three grandmammas, can he?” Dimmie considered this problem gravely. “Stella Hamilton’s only got two,” he admitted. “Yes. One is Mrs. Hamilton’s mother, and the other is Dr. Hamilton’s mother. I’m your mamma’s mother, and your papa has a mother. So this woman at Miss Storms’ isn’t your grandmamma at all.” “All right. I don’t love her any more,” Dimmie decided bravely. “She didn’t give me nothin’ but cookies anyway.” “And you love Nannie, don’t you?” Her words were inaudible to John. “Yes,” he responded, leaning against her with his face close to hers. “As well as you do Papa and Mamma?” “As much as Papa, but Mamma is nicer,” he answered accurately. “Don’t you love Nannie as much as you do Mamma? I’ll cry then. See all your chocolates! You’ve only eaten one.” Dimmie took another chocolate. “Yes, I love you as well as Mamma,” he confided under his breath. Nannie kissed him. “Now go and play,” she suggested, pushing him gently away from her, “and don’t get chocolates on your clean suit,” she added warningly. Dimmie went in search of his mother. In a few moments he returned to the dining room. “Mamma says she don’t want no dinner,” he announced. “She’s got a headache.” “Let’s not wait any longer,” urged John. “You can serve dinner, Katy,” Mrs. Merwent bade the servant. “Yes, Miss Nannie. It won’t be a minute,” declared Katy, going out of the room and coming back with the soup tureen which she placed on the table. John and Nannie seated themselves, and Dimmie climbed into his chair. “Go upstairs and see if Mrs. Winter doesn’t want a little something to eat, or at least a cup of tea, Katy,” directed Nannie. “No, Miss Nannie. She say she caint eat nothin’ ’t’all,” Katy reported when she reappeared. “I’m afraid Lucy has another of her nervous spells,” Nannie remarked to John. “Those people at Miss Storms’ have been filling her head with all kinds of stuff and she probably thinks she is very badly used.”