The SwingBy Mary Gavell As she grew old, she began to dream again. She had not dreamed much in her middle years; or, if she had , the busyness of her days, converging on her the moment she awoke, had pushed her dreams right out of her head, and any fragments that remained were as busy and prosaic as the day itself. She had only the one son, James, but she had also mothered her younger sister after their parents died, and she had done all of the office work during the years when her hu
