Did I hear a faint sound from the other end of the bed?
Perhaps I did not; I may only have been listening for it, but I
falter and look up. My sister and I look sternly at my mother.
She bites her under-lip and clutches the bed with both hands,
really she is doing her best for me, but first comes a smothered
gurgling sound, then her hold on herself relaxes and she shakes
with mirth.
'That's a way to behave!' cries my sister.
'I cannot help it,' my mother gasps.
'And there's nothing to laugh at.'
'It's that woman,' my mother explains unnecessarily.
'Maybe she's not the woman you think her,' I say, crushed.
'Maybe not,' says my mother doubtfully. 'What was her name?'
'Her name,' I answer with triumph, 'was not Margaret'; but this
makes her ripple again. 'I have so many names nowadays,' she
mutters.
'H'sh!' says my father, and the reading is resumed.
Perhaps the woman who came along the path was of tall and majestic
figure, which should have shown my mother that I had contrived to
start my train without her this time. But it did not.
'What are you laughing at now?' says my sister severely. 'Do you
not hear that she was a tall, majestic woman?'
'It's the first time I ever heard it said of her,' replies my
mother.
'But she is.'
'Ke fy, havers!'
'The book says it.'
'There will be a many queer things in the book. What was she
wearing?'
I have not described her clothes.
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