From 8-year old Hilda Firestone’s diary:

Sunday school again. Our teacher talked about how wonderful God is. Maybe He is, I don’t know yet. Now it is afternoon and I am in my grandfather’s little study room, and writing this on my desk right next to his. It’s just like his too. It has a top that rolls down, and has places for paper and holders for pens and pencils. Alma calls them pigeon holes. Pigeons build nests just like that, only they don’t keep pencils and pens in them. The desk has a chair just the right size for me and I love to sit here, and write in my book, or when I write a letter to my father who lives in New York. I like it best when Grandfather sits right next to me and we work together. Sometimes he says, “Now Hilda, let us see who can write the neatest and prettiest letters.” So far, his are always the best.

I love the image of little Hilda sitting next to her grandfather at a smaller but identical version of his desk as they “worked” side by side.