"Well, I'm not having any fun at all," she said brightly.

When I told her she acted as if she were in a dentist's chair, she said, "I am."

"You can't wait to get out of here, can you?"

"I can't," she said. "I like you, but I can't wait." Even in her moment of discomfiture, she tried to make me feel better by saying it wasn't personal.

As the interview progressed, I began to feel like I was Ed McMahon to their Johnny Carson. I was their straight man, setting them up for one-liners, some spontaneous, some old ones they had used previously. They are funny and playful together, and they play off one another, not to mention their interviewer.

When President Hinckley noted that he remembered Marjorie as a little girl, she mumbled to him, "I was really cute. Tell him that."

"Oh, yeah, she was a cute little girl," he said without missing a beat.

When she was reminded of the long months that her husband used to be away from home on church business, leaving her to tend their household and five children, she said, "Then he'd come home and think he was in charge."

Their feet have slowed, but not their wit. In the preface of Marjorie's biography, "Glimpses," Sheri Dew recalls a meeting in which President Hinckley began to address a group of missionaries by announcing, "I am going to exercise my prerogative and call on Sister Hinckley to talk with you. This is something for which I will pay a dear price, but so be it." Never at a loss for words, Marjorie stepped to the microphone and said, "I like this man a lot, but I like him sometimes a lot more than others."

In another meeting, President Hinckley again began his talk by saying, "Sister Hinckley and I have been all over the world speaking to missionaries, and I don't know anyone who does a better job at this than she does. So I think I'd like for her to speak for a few minutes." Marjorie leaned into the microphone and said, "I'll tell you exactly why I'm speaking. President Hinckley hasn't decided yet what he wants to say and he's stalling."

In my brief interview with Marjorie Hinckley, this was my impression: Maybe she is 91 years old, stands 5-foot nothing at best, has gray hair and is as sweet as the Relief Society president's Jell-O, but she is a strong personality. She is independent, knows what she wants and she can take care of herself. Ask her if it was difficult during her husband's long absences early in their marriage, she says matter of factly, "No, I liked to be in charge." She also added, "Then he'd come home and start running things, and I'd say, 'Wait a minute; I'm in charge here.' "