ered with an admirable tact. In
the dedication poem to her mother, the little girl
"If I sing, you listen;
If I think, you know."
No finer tribute could be offered by one person to
another than the contented certainty of understanding
in those two lines.
Hilda tells her poems, and the method of it is
this: They come out in the course of conversation,
and Mrs. Conkling is so often engaged in
writing that there is nothing to be remarked if she
scribbles absently while talking to the little girls.
But this scribbling is really a complete draught of
the poem. Occasionally Mrs. Conkling writes
down the poem later from memory and reads it
afterwards to the child, who always remembers
if it is not exactly in its original form. No line,
no cadence, is altered from Hilda's version; the
titles have been added for convenience, but they
are merely obvious handles derived from the
Naturally it is only a small prop
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