I never thought then of Mother.

But I believe now that it _was_ Mother, for-- But I mustn't tell you that part now.

Stories are just like meals.

You have to eat them--I mean tell them--in regular order, and not put the ice-cream in where the soup ought to be.

So I'm not going to tell yet why I suspect it was Mother that cut out that page of the paper with Father's picture in it.
Well, the next morning was Father's lecture, and I went with Mother.
Of course Grandfather was there, too, but he was with the other astronomers, I guess.