"Yes, but when will that be?" asked the little boy. "When there are no more left on this side," said the grandmother. "Was that one of your great-grandmother's stories?" asked the little boy. "Yes," said the grandmother. "Don't you like it?" "I like it a little--the first part of it," said the little boy. "But----" "Remember your promise!" said the grandmother. CHAPTER XX TRINITY-MONDAY You would hardly know the village. As you looked down the street it would seem as if a forest of tall masts and poles had suddenly sprung up. Before every house they stood, two tall uprights--very, very tall--with a beam across the top, and from the beam two very long poles hanging, with a board connecting the lower ends. Yes, they were swings, but not swings like yours, for they were made of these long, long poles instead of ropes. The sun was hardly up when the little boy came out of the court and made a dash for the swing. There were boys and girls on every swing as far as you could see down the street, and in some of them were fathers and mothers, too, for Trinity-Monday is a great holiday, and no one works who is not obliged to. It was still very early. The hot mid-summer sun had hardly peeped above the distant hills. The little boy had a long, long day for swinging. In the swing next door were three children standing up, and their father with them, swinging very high and shouting joyously. The father, in a very loud, deep voice, would shout a long "Boo-oo-oo-m!" and then the children would cry, in their shrill treble, "Hurra-a-a-r!" with a long roll of the "r." All down the street they were "boom"-ing and "hurra-a-a-r"-ing; it was a beautiful noise. The sisters came running out, and after them the brother and the father. And what swing went so high as the little boy's swing? And from before which house was there so deep a "Boo-oo-oo-m!" or so shrill and joyous a "Hurra-a-a-r!"? The fun went on all day, the children visiting from swing to swing, and the fathers and mothers taking a turn now and again. What a joyful Trinity-Monday! The grandmothers did not swing. They sat in the house-doors with the babies of the young mothers or took their knitting and exchanged calls with one another. The long day seemed very short even to them. By the time sunset came the little boy was thoroughly tired out with delight. He came and lay down on the bench in the court where the grandmother was sitting. For once her hands were idle. She was thinking of her own swinging days, a long, long time ago. "There is time for a story," said the little boy, "and you are doing nothing, little grandmamma." The grandmother smiled indulgently and told him the story of SO BORN, SO DIE