TO THE LiGHTHOUs1=;the house had not been cleaned as she could havewished. It was beyond one person’s strengthto get it straight now. She was too old. Herlegs pained her. All those books needed to belaid out on the grass in the sun; there was plasterfallen in the hall; the rain-pipe had blockedover the study window and let the water in; thecarpet was ruined quite. But people should comethemselves; they should have sent somebodydown to see. For there were clothes in the cupboards; they had left clothes in all the bedrooms.What was she to do with them? They had themoth in them——l\/Irs. Ramsay’s things. Poorlady! She would never want them again. Shewas dead, they said; years ago, in London.There was the old grey cloak she wore gardening(Mrs. McNab fingered it.) She could see her,as she came up the drive with the washing,stooping over her flowers (the garden was apitiful sight now, all run to riot, and rabbitsscuttling at you out of the beds)——she could seeher with one of the children by her in that greycloak. There were boots and shoes; and a brushand comb left on the dressing—table, for all theworld as if she expected to come back to-morroW·(She had died very sudden at the end, they said.)And once they had been coming, but had put OHcoming, what with the war, and travel being210
Resize Images  

Select Pane

Berg Materials

View Pane