As the story goes, this was one of my mother's favorite books. And then, once-upon-a-time her much-younger sister absconded with said book, and took it outside and left it in the rain. To be ruined. Wet. Soggy. Warped. Frankly, I don't remember much more than these scant details, or even a time when my mom actually told me this story - but somehow it was woven into the fibers of the pages themselves. And likely why I loved the book. A book that we aren't quite sure that anyone in the family actually owns anymore.