And after all it's a very short story--not nearly so long as grandmother's." "Never mind, we'll make it longer by talking about it," said Molly.
"That's how I did at home when I had a very small piece of cake for tea.
I took one bite of cake to three or four of bread and butter.

It made it seem much more." "I can perfectly believe that _you_ will be ready to provide the necessary amount of 'bread and butter' to eke out my story," said aunty gravely.
And Molly stared at her in such comical bewilderment as to what she meant, that she set them all off laughing again.
Monday evening came.

Aunty took her place at the table in front of the lamp, and having satisfied herself that Molly's wants in the shape of needles and thread, thimble, etc., were supplied for the next half-hour at least, she began as follows:-- "A CHRISTMAS ADVENTURE.
"On the twenty-second of December, in the year eighteen hundred and fifty----" "No," said aunty, stopping short, "I can't tell you the year.
Molly would make all sorts of dreadful calculations on the spot, as to my exact age, and the date at which the first grey hairs might be looked for--I will only say eighteen hundred and _something_." "_Fifty_ something," said Molly promptly.

"You did say that, aunty." "Terrible child!" said aunty.

"Well, never mind, I'll begin again.