"What makes it, Grandma? What happened?" And Marion settled little Sarah more comfortably on the hassock, and straightened herself, ready to listen. "Why, it is this association of ideas I was speaking of; my memory of that verse about bread is mixed in with all those scenes. I was the little girl moving the dasher. You see it was this way: "Mother was very sick that spring, and father had to take her to the city to be under the care of a great doctor, and he had to stay with her; so we children were scattered. I went to spend a week with aunt Pat Worcester." "What a horrid name for a woman!" said Rollo. "Oh! it was a nice name. _Patriot_, the whole name was, but almost everybody called her aunt Pat. She was a splendid woman. People all respected her. She was my father's aunt and he had lived with her a good deal when he was a boy and loved her very much; he liked to have me stay with her. That winter, or spring, it was, she had a nephew living with her; a great red-headed boy named Jeremiah, only we always said Jerry. I didn't like him very well. He was a smart, bright boy, and might have been pleasant, only he was always teasing children younger than himself, telling them things which were not true, threatening to drown them, you know, or bury them alive, or something of that sort; things that he had no more notion of doing than he had of flying; but they were too young to know it, poor things, and he had that kind of evil nature which seemed to be pleased with making others uncomfortable. He didn't trouble me much, because I kept close to aunt Pat; but once in awhile he would wink his great eyes at me, and tell me he was going to swallow me, some day, when aunt Pat wasn't looking." Grandma's children all laughed at this, and Marion questioned: "Why, Grandma, you surely didn't believe _that_, did you?" "No, child; not exactly, of course; and yet I couldn't help feeling kind of creepy all over, when I was in danger of being left alone with him, and I thought of his great mouth. It is my opinion that little folks suffer from these things more than older ones have any idea. I should despise a boy who would descend to so mean a trick as trying to tease one younger than himself." Harold looked out of the window, steadily, his cheeks a trifle red. The question was, did Grandma know, or did she _not_ know, that he told little Bobby White the other day he was going to tie him to the top of the great big flag staff at the corner, and leave him swinging there for a flag, because his dress was red, and his collar was white, and his eyes were blue. But Grandma didn't look at Harold.