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Show -147- fore her grandfather. "See!" "Yes," he assented. "It's very nice." The Professor thought how much he liked the atmosphere of his daughter's house. The children had been born while the parents were struggling to get through college. His daughter had had to drop out of school after the birth of the first child, to take a job as a secretary. Her husband had worked partime at a gasoline station. The children had not been spoiled, as so many children he saw these days had been, and they had not been neglected. Their parents took them everywhere with them, even to the theater. His daughter helped her child off with the sx<reater. "Fold it up now and put it away so it will look nice when you wear it to school." "I want to feel it," the child insisted. "All right. You feel it a minute - then put it away," his daughter said. The Professor, sipping his beer, was recalling a time when his? own two daughters were just a little older that his granddaughters were now. A famous Welsh poet had come to stay with them. The language he used when he told stories was rough, and the stories themselves were usually about sexual exploits, his own and others. Yet he never told such stories when the children were present. Instead, he told them of his oxrai children, wonderfully imaginative tales, Usually of a little girl who lived by the sea and who loved to |
