. .
She steered her uncle into the dining-room and placed him on a chair
beside the fire. In all his movements he attempted restraints and
dignity because he knew that he was drunk but hoped that his niece,
in spite of her long experience of him, would not perceive it. At
the same time he knew that she did perceive it and would perhaps
scold him about it. This made him a little indignant because, after
all, he had only taken the tiniest drop--one drop at Drymouth,
another at Liskane station, and another at "The Hearty Cow" at
Clinton St. Mary, just before his start on his cold lonely walk to
St. Dreot's. He hoped that he would prevent her criticism by his
easy pleasant talk, so on he chattered.
She sat down near him and continuing to sew smiled at him, wondered
what there was for dinner and the kind of mood that her father would
be in when he found his dear brother here.
Maggie Cardinal, at the time, was nineteen years of age. She was
neither handsome nor distinguished, plain indeed, although her mild,
good-natured eyes had in their light a quality of vitality and
interest that gave her personality; her figure was thick and square-
-she would be probably stout one day.
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