But Mrs. St. Leonard has given herself up
to the pursuit of trouble to the exclusion of all other interests in
life. She appears to regard it as the only calling worthy a
Christian woman. I found her alone one afternoon. Her manner was
preoccupied; I asked if I could be of any assistance.
"No," she answered, "I am merely trying to think what it can be that
has been worrying me all the morning. It has clean gone out of my
head."
She remembered it a little later with a glad sigh.
St. Leonard himself, Ethelbertha thinks charming. We are to go again
on Sunday for her to see the children. Three or four people we met I
fancy we shall be able to fit in with. We left at half-past six, and
took Bute back with us to supper.
CHAPTER X
"She's a good woman," said Robina.
"Who's a good woman?" I asked.
"He's trying, I expect; although he is an old dear: to live with, I
mean," continued Robina, addressing apparently the rising moon. "And
then there are all those children."
"You are thinking of Mrs. St. Leonard," I suggested.
"There seems no way of making her happy," explained Robina. "On
Thursday I went round early in the morning to help Janie pack the
baskets for the picnic. It was her own idea, the picnic."
"Speaking of picnics," I said.
"You might have thought," went on Robina, "that she was dressing for
her own funeral. She said she knew she was going to catch her death
of cold, sitting on the wet grass.
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