"So, ho! My baby girl has grown up! Dolls and sand-digging tools
don't call, as of old. And small, dirty paws, and a tiny smudgy chin,
transform, almost in a twinkling into charming hands and a chin of
maturity. My, my! It was but a month or two ago that you, in pig-tails
and gingham----"
"No, Daddy! It was a _mighty long_ month or two ago; and it's not
pig-tails and gingham, now, but a husband and a baby."
"All right, kid; but as you grow old, you'll find that, in glancing
backwards, months look mighty short; and small tots grow up, almost in
a night. A month _from now_ looks awfully far off; but _last month_?
Pff! That was only last night!"
Thus did Nancy and His Honor talk, until a vigorous honking at his curb
told of Frank, "looking for a cook," for it was six o'clock.