Michael Malone - Weebly

wonderful to know that her mother (of whom she had
such a few, such a faded, fixed treasury of memories)
was known in other, new ways, and that she could
happen on these discoveries like Easter eggs. That Kate
Ransom's father should have loved her mother! That
her mother should have surprised the town and driven
her parents to fits!
"Yes." Miss Dingley smiled. "She was a flower.
Now, you. You remind me more of your grandmother
Miriam Hedgerow. She did my sewing, you know. Too
ham-handed to do it myself—I could do marvels with a
racquet, but a needle! I wanted nothing to do with
anything female. As a result of which, of course, I'm
totally incompetent to take care of myself."
"I'm named for my grandmother and my mom.
Miriam Pauline.
But everybody calls me Polly. But when I go out in
the world, like to college, that's what I'm going to tell
people to call me. Miriam."
"Yes, you've got her eyes. Snappy bright little black
eyes. She never missed a thing, not a stitch, not a word,
not a truth of life.