At first , Aunt Emmy , I thought I would be ashamed to offer Miss Mitchell a shabby old book , worn with much reading and all marked over with father 's notes and pencillings . I was afraid she would think it queer of me to give her such a present . And yet somehow it seemed to me that it was better than something brand new and unmellowed -- that old book which father had loved and which I loved . So I gave it to her , and she understood . I think it pleased her so much , the real meaning in it . She said it was like being given something out of another 's heart and life . `` Then you know Mrs. Martin ... last year she was Miss Hope , my dear Sunday School teacher . She married a home missionary , and they are in a lonely part of the west . Well , I wrote her a letter . Not just an ordinary letter ; dear me , no . I took a whole day to write it , and you should have seen the postmistress 's eyes stick out when I mailed it . I just told her everything that had happened in Greenvale since she went away . I made it as newsy and cheerful and loving as I possibly could . Everything bright and funny I could think of went into it . `` The next was old Aunt Kitty . You know she was my nurse when I was a baby , and she 's very fond of me . But , well , you know , Aunt Emmy , I 'm ashamed to confess it , but really I 've never found Aunt Kitty very entertaining , to put it mildly . She is always glad when I go to see her , but I 've never gone except when I could n't help it . She is very deaf , and rather dull and stupid , you know . Well , I gave her a whole day .
I took my knitting yesterday , and sat XXXXX her the whole time and just talked and talked .
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