Memoir, page 7: Dunkin's death on Feb 4th, Mammie's grief, the nursery

was called “membranous croup” in those days — diphtheria really — and in these days he would have lived — In those days he choked to death — The night that he was dying — in paroxysms of strangling — Dad was holding him — He held him close and Mammie heard him say — “Little son I will go with you just as far as God will let me!”

Dunkin died during the early morning of Feb 4th — my birthday — Buck and I did not know that he had died — of course we had no realization of death — Soon after we waked — the door between the rooms opened and Mammie stood there — my birthday present in her hands — I can see her as plainly as though she were still standing there — A pale gray flannel wrapper feather stitched in blue wool — dark hair piled high on her head — Heart broken — but not allowing her grief to conquer her. Calm and quiet — her grief was hers and she was not going to let it frighten the children. I must have realized the wonderfulness of her even then — for it’s all so clearly remembered.

The nursery was our kingdom — but ruled by the firm hand of a Maumie — Becky was the first — and Maum Hannah came next. We loved them — and one thing that I realize in looking back —