"
"There I quite agree with you, my dear."
Mrs. Baxter looked less grateful than she might have for this endorsement
of her views; self-confidence is apt to hold external support in cheap
esteem.
"When the first Mrs. Greening died," she remarked, "they gave the maids
very nice black frocks, with a narrow edging of good crape. The very
first Sunday-out that Elizabeth had--the butcher's daughter near the Red
Cow--you remember?--she stuck a red ribbon round the neck."
The Dean looked puzzled.
"Mrs. Greening was the most selfish woman I've ever known," explained
Mrs. Baxter; and she added with a pensive smile, "And I've lived in a
Cathedral town for thirty years."
The red-ribbon became intelligible; it fell into line with Morewood's
ill-disciplined wish. Both signified an absence of love, such a departing
without being desired as serves for the epitaph of a Jewish king. The
Dean cast round for somebody who would prove such an inscription false on
Alexander Quisante's tomb.
"Anyhow it would break the old aunt's heart," he said.
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