My Grandnanny's Bell

My father's grandmother, my "grandnanny" as we called her, died when I was about eleven years old.  I didn't know her well, but I knew she was completely beloved by the entire family.  And she was a writer, of memiors and an adorable children's story that I still think needs to be published.

When she died, her daughter, my Nanny, brought over a box of things for us to chose a memento from to remember.  I chose two things.  Some slippers she had knitted, a porcelain figurine of an Edwardian (I think?) girl.  Around the same time, I laid claim on this bell that I think she had given to my parents.  I've always loved tarnished brass, and it all started with this bell.  Thank you, Grandnanny.  I wish I could have known you better.