I
"What are you doing this morning, Aunt Sarah?" asked Mary Dodds on
the first morning of Mrs. Hugh Greene's visit. "I have to do some
shopping, but I'd love it if you would come with me."
"No thank you, dear," answered Mrs. Greene. "I have an appointment
at 12 o'clock, and if you'll excuse me, I won't come back to lunch."
"You're sure you won't be too tired if you stay out both morning and
afternoon?"
Young Mrs. Dodds was genuinely solicitous, and her husband, Roger,
added quietly, "You're not looking too well, Aunt Sarah; why not see
a doctor while you are in town?"
"That is just what I'm doing at 12 o'clock, but you needn't worry, my
dears; I'm a little run down perhaps, and don't forget that I'm
seventy this year so I can hardly expect to be quite as active as I
used to be. But I shall come quietly back and have a rest before
tea, if I may."
"Let me bring tea up to your room and have it there with you,"
suggested Mary, "Ellen is out this afternoon, and I shall be getting
tea myself anyhow, and it would be nice for you to have it in bed and
then rest on till dinner-time."
Mrs. Greene turned to Roger.
"Your wife is the most thoughtful young woman I know," she said
briskly, "You did very well for yourself when you married her."
Roger laughed, kissed Mary, who was pink and flustered, and left for
his office.
"You can't think how much nicer you are than most relations-in-law,
Aunt Sarah," said Mary impulsively, "you're so much easier than my
mother-in-law somehow. She expects so much of me that I just get
futile and incompetent when she is about."
"I've never had any children, you know, and I think perhaps that
makes me less exacting than Elinor. She has always made too many
demands on Roger, and that leads to difficulties.
"You're awfully wise," said Mary slowly, "I think all old people are
much wiser than middle-aged ones, especially women; perhaps in ten
years' time Mrs. Dodds will be quite sensible."
She smiled at Mrs. Greene who thought of her uncertain, irritable,
dissatisfied sister-in-law, and smiled back at the improbability of
her developing into the type of tranquil old lady that Mary seemed to
hope for. Then, looking more closely at Mary, she noticed that there
was an expression of strain and fatigue on her usually pink and
healthy face.
"You're not looking very well yourself, Mary," she said.
Mary hesitated for a moment.
"I'd like to tell you," she said uncertainly; "Roger thought I
oughtn't to because I haven't told his mother yet, but after all
you're very discreet, aren't you? We're having a baby in about six
months, and he is rather worried about it because we can't really
afford it."
Her lip trembled a little, but she steadied her voice and went on,
"I'm really glad about it even though it does mean getting rid of
Ellen and only having a cook and economising a lot, but of course it
isn't much fun for Roger, and he does work hard."
"Well, I think that is a very nice piece of news," said Mrs. Greene
warmly, "I shall thoroughly enjoy having a grandnephew or niece, and
you must let me pay your doctor and help you in any way I can. As a
matter of fact I get tired sometimes of hearing my sister-in-law
talking of her great-grandchild and all her grandchildren. You don't
know old Mrs. Greene do you? She's a delightful woman, but sometimes
I feel she forgets there are other young couples in the world besides
Lavinia and Martin and the young Geoffreys, and now the Hughs."
"Thank you ever so much, Aunt Sarah, it's lovely of you, and it will
be a weight off Roger's mind. He does work so hard, and he earns so
little."
Mary's voice rose almost to a wail, but Aunt Sarah only said crisply:
"Oughtn't you to go and see the cook now? You mustn't bother about
me; I'll write a letter or two before I go out."
Young Mrs. Dodds gulped a little and blew her nose, but as the
parlourmaid came in, cast an injured glance at the two ladies still
sitting over the breakfast table and then swept out with pursed lips,
she was sufficiently in command of herself to laugh and say, "I
shan't mind getting rid of her anyhow. She's horribly haughty."
Mrs. Greene left alone, sat for a moment in thought before she
crossed the hall to the small living room. She wondered how Roger's
inadequate income was going to be stretched to meet the demands of
the unborn child which was already beginning to assume a definite
importance in her mind.
I'm as bad as Margaret, she thought; I didn't really care so very
much when her great-grandchild was born, and yet it was my
great-grandnephew after all. But there is something more intimate
about this one; it's a Dodds, and I feel possessive about it. Odd
that after being Mrs. Hugh Greene for nearly fifty years, I should
still be Sarah Dodds.
Her thoughts turned back to Roger; something ought to be done for
him; his position in the rather depressing solicitor's office where
he worked was unsatisfactory.
As Ellen again entered the room, armed with a formidable frown and a
tray, Mrs. Greene went across the hall and sat down to write. She
found herself unable to concentrate on her letters. Either the
thought of the impending interview was draining her of her usually
resolute vitality, or the news that Mary had given her had provoked
an emotional reaction.
Her heart stirred almost painfully as she thought of Roger, his
enduring good qualities, his affection for her, his social inadequacy
and uncouthness that concealed a good brain and a sense of humour.
She had been pleased with his marriage to Mary, the least exacting of
women, unaware of most of her husband's deficiencies, and tolerant of
those she recognised.
A small sinister idea insinuated itself into Mrs. Greene's mind.
Unaware that she spoke aloud she formulated her fear in words.
"Perhaps on this bright November day I shall have to make my will,
and then Mary need not economise over her baby."
The rich autumn sun struck a shaft across the desk that warmed her
chill hand, but Mrs. Greene shivered as she looked across the narrow
street and steadied herself to accept the immediate future.