Bebee sprang out of bed at daybreak. She was sixteen. It seemed a very wonderful thing to be as much as that-sixteen-a woman quite. A cock was crowing under her lattice. He said how old you are!-how old you are! every time that he sounded his clarion. She opened the lattice and wished him good day, with a laugh. It was so pleasant to be woke by him, and to think that one in all the world could ever call one a child any more.