What goes on between the dead, his grandmother had told him, is the dead's own business.

And no one came but the grandmother to tell us what was going on.

I tried to remember what my grandmother had told me.

The boy did what his grandmother told him to do.

Still, he had made himself read them because of something his grandmother once told him.

His grandmother, he said, had told him it was no crime to be poor.

His grandmother did not tell him the truth until he was nine years old.

Grandmother told me that at first we paid no attention.

"The next morning, my grandmother told me that he had died."

She loved to listen to her mother and grandmother tell stories about the old days.