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about you, and it would be cruel to keep them so all night. You must go downstairs."
" I'm so g'lad, grandmother, you didn't say— go home—for this is my home. Mayn't I call this my home?"
" You may, my child. And I trust you will always think it your home. Now come. I must take you back without anyone seeing you."
" Please, I want to ask you one question more," said Irene. " Is it because you have your crown on that you look so young?"
"No, child," answered her grandmother; "it is because I felt so young this evening, that I put my crown on. And I thought you would like to see your old grandmother in her best."
" Why do you call yourself old? You're not old, grandmother."
" I am very old indeed. It is so silly of people —I don't mean you, for you are such a tiny, and couldn't know better—but it is so silly of people to fancy that old age means crookedness and witheredness and feebleness and sticks and spectacles and rheumatism and forgetfulness! It is so silly! Old age has nothing whatever to do