" Aunt Elizabeth was there, cheerful and almost merry in
her bird-like fashion. The world was normal, ghosts out of fashion,
and this morning was the day on which the silver was cleaned. This
last was Maggie's business, and very badly she did it, never being
"thorough," and having a fatal habit of thinking of other things.
Porridge, eggs and bacon, marmalade--
"And--her golden hair was hanging--" croaked Edward.
"Your aunt won't come down this morning, Maggie. She's much better.
The sun's shining. A little walk will be a good thing. I'll buy the
calico that Anne talked about. Your aunt's better."
Maggie felt ashamed of herself. What desperate silly feelings had
she allowed last night? How much she had made of that service, and
how weak she was to give way so easily!
"I'll clean the silver," she thought. "I'll do it better than ever"-
-but unfortunately she had a hole in her stocking, and Aunt
Elizabeth, like a sparrow who has found a worm, told her about it.
"Mr. Crashaw's coming to tea this afternoon," she concluded.
"That's why Anne's staying in bed--to be well enough." The stocking
and Mr.
Pages:
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326