10
The Story of My Childhood
Down among the trees and twittering robins next morning came one of my listeners; a broad-shouldered, manly looking man, the face so full of benign intelligence that once seen was never to be forgotten. He came in at the open door, merrily shaking off the cherry blossoms like large flakes of early snow, an entire stranger to me until the previous evening. He seated himself and entered into conversation with a familiar ease that bespoke the cultured gentleman. After a few minutes he turned earnestly to me with: "Miss Barton, I have an errand in coming to you. I have a request to make."
I said I hoped I should be able to comply. He hesitated, as if thinking how to commence, but at length said: "I want you to recall and write the
