worked in the house. They could cook and make butter and cheese, and bake
bread; and even the youngest little girl could knit and sew.

"Had they any children?"

"No, they were too busy to think about having children. They were all
very, very happy together, just as they were."

The story was like the hem, there was never any end to it, for Mamma was
always finding something else for the three girls to do. She smiled as
she told it, as if she saw something that pleased her.

Mary felt that she could go on sewing at the hem and pricking her finger
for ever if Mamma would only keep that look on her face.




VIII


I.

"I can't, Jenny, I can't. I know there's a funeral coming."

Mary stood on the flagstone inside the arch of the open gate. She looked
up and down the road and drew back again into the garden. Jenny, tired
and patient, waited outside.

"I've told you, Miss Mary, there isn't any funeral."