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People Like That by Kate Langley Bosher
page 37 of 235 (15%)

Before I could answer she stopped her dusting and, head on the side
and hands on her hips, listened. "There's the iceman at the kitchen
door," she said, relievedly. "I'll have to go and let him in."

It is this I cannot understand, this unusual evasiveness on Mrs.
Mundy's part. She is the least mysterious of persons, is, indeed, as
open as the day, and it is unlike her to act as she has done. From
childhood I have known her. Up to the time of Aunt Matilda's
marriage to Mr. Chesmond she made my clothes, and for years, in all
times of domestic complications has been our dependence. When I
decided to live for a while in the house once owned by my
grandfather, I turned to her in confidence that she would care not
only for my material needs, but that from her I could get what no one
else could give me--an insight into scenes and situations commonly
concealed from surface sight.

Her knowledge of life is wide and varied. With unfailing faith and
cheerful courage and a habit of seeing the humorous side of tragic
catastrophes, she has done her work among the sick and forsaken, with
no appeal to others save a certain few; and only those who have been
steadied by her strong hands, and heartened by her buoyant spirit,
and fed from her scant store, have knowledge or understanding of what
she means to the section of the city where the poor and lowly live.
Bit by bit I am learning, but even yet it is difficult to make her
tell me all she does, or how and when she does it.

It was partly because of certain talks with her that I decided to
come to Scarborough Square. If I could make but a few understand
what she understands--so understand that the sending of a check would
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