She looked first through the girl's little wooden
trunk, the key of which was in the lock, but nothing save a childish
treasure or two rewarded Mrs. Tregenza here. In a broken desk, which had
belonged to her mother, Joan kept a few Christmas cards, and two
silhouettes: one of Uncle Thomas, of Drift, one of Mary Chirgwin. Here were
also some cooking recipes copied in her mother's writing, an agate marble
which Joan had found on Penzance beach, lavender tied up in a bag, and an
odd toy that softened Thomasin's heart not a little as she picked it up and
looked at it. The thing brought back to her memory a time four years
earlier. It was a small, grotesque figure on wires, built up of chestnuts
and acorns with a hazel-nut for its head and black pins stuck in for the
eyes. She remembered Tom making it and giving it to Joan on her birthday.
Then the memory of Joan's love for Tom from the time he was born came like
a glow of sunshine into the mother's heart, and for a moment she was minded
to relinquish her unpleasant task upon the spot; but she changed her
intention again and proceeded. The box held little else save a parcel of
old clothes tied up with rosemary in brown paper. These the woman surveyed
curiously, and knew, without being told, that they had belonged to Joan's
mother. For some reason the spectacle killed sentiment and changed her
mood. She shut down the box, and then, going to the chest of drawers,
pulled out each compartment in turn.
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