"She must have been just like you." They all smiled.
"And when she died," pursued grandmother gently, almost as if speaking to herself, "when she died and all her things were divided, I begged them to give me the pink cup.

I might have had a more valuable one instead, but I preferred it.

It is one of those two over there on the little cabinet." Molly's eyes turned eagerly in the direction of the little cabinet.
"Grandmother dear," she said, solemnly, "when you die--I don't _want_ you to die, you know of course, but when you _do_ die, I wish you would say that _I_ may have that cup--will you?
To remind me, you know, of what you have been telling us.

I quite understand how you mean: that day all my brooches were broken, I did awfully want not to tell you about them all, and I might forget, you see, about the little bad seed and all that, that you have been telling us so nicely.

Please, grandmother dear, _may_ I have that cup when you die ?" "Molly," said Sylvia, her face growing very red, "it is perfectly horrible of you to talk that way.