"It is going to rain again." She clapped her hands, and danced lightly back into the house.

She subsided into his easy chair and clasped her hands over her head.
"Come and stand there on the hearthrug," she demanded, "and tell me stories--stories of fishing adventures and storms, and things that have happened to yourself.

Never mind how ordinary they may seem.

I want to hear them.

Remember that everything is new to me.