The easiest part of my job in support of the retirement party on Saturday was to linger for an hour or so within earshot while Mabel Watson Payne took her afternoon nap in her grandmother's bedroom. Down the street many of the main party events were going forward in the parish hall. But there could be no question about the sacred necessity of nap-time for a two-year-old. She caught the festivities at the beginning and at the end, but in the middle she was sound asleep back at the house. It was a warm day. The roses also were drowsy.
