TIME PASSEStempered like all her sort, but kind, too, if you knewthe way with her. Many a laugh they had had to-gether. She saved a plate of soup for Maggie; abite of ham, sometimes; whatever was over. Theylived well in those days. They had everything theywanted (glibly, jovially, with the tea hot in her, sheunwound her ball of memories, sitting in the wickerarm-chair by the nursery fender). There was alwaysplenty doing, people in the house, twenty stayingsometimes, and washing up till long past midnight.

Mrs. Bast (she had never known them; had livedin Glasgow at that time) wondered, putting her cupdown, whatever they hung that beast’s skull therefor? Shot in foreign parts no doubt.

It might well be, said Mrs. McNab, wantoning onwith her memories; they had friends in easterncountries; gentlemen staying there, ladies in eveningdress; she had seen them once through the dining-room door all sitting at dinner. Twenty she daredsay all in their jewellery, and she asked to stay helpwash up, might be till after midnight.

Ah, said Mrs. Bast, they’d find it changed. Sheleant out of the window. She watched her son Georgescything the grass. They might well ask, what hadbeen done to it? seeing how old Kennedy was sup-posed to have charge of it, and then his leg got sobad after he fell from the cart; and perhaps then no211

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