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“It was brightly wrapped, and the card on it read, “To Daddy from Jannie.” “It’s fine,” I said. “What is it?” “Not so loud,” Jannie said, whispering. “It’s a potholder.” “A potholder?” “Yes, we learned how to make potholders in Starlight 4-H Club. And this is for Sally.” “A potholder?” “Yes, and this is for Laurie, and this is for Barry.” “A potholder for Barry?” “Yes, because in the mornings when his cereal’s too hot. Oh, golly.” Hastily she snatched the bottom package from the box and put it under her pillow. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said. “I didn’t see it,” I told her. “I never even noticed it.” “Good,” she said, “because that’s a secret, that one. I won’t even tell you who it’s for.” — Shirley Jackson
It was brightly wrapped, and the card on it read, “To Daddy from Jannie.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “What is it?”
“Not so loud,” Jannie said, whispering. “It’s a potholder.”
“A potholder?”
“Yes, we learned how to make potholders in Starlight 4-H Club. And this is for Sally.”
“A potholder?”
“Yes, and this is for Laurie, and this is for Barry.”
“A potholder for Barry?”
“Yes, because in the mornings when his cereal’s too hot. Oh, golly.” Hastily she snatched the bottom package from the box and put it under her pillow. “You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said.
“I didn’t see it,” I told her. “I never even noticed it.”
“Good,” she said, “because that’s a secret, that one. I won’t even tell you who it’s for.