earning to read slowly, write
illegibly, and cypher incorrectly, she did so secretly. She deferred to
the popular prejudice, which may have had an inflated opinion of the
advantages of education; but she acknowledged its growth and the worldly
wisdom of giving way to it.

Old Mrs. Prichard and Aunt M'riar naturally exchanged confidences more
and more; and in the end the old lady began to speak without reserve
about her past. It came about thus. After Christmas, Dave being
culture-bound, and work of a profitable nature for the moment at a low
ebb, Aunt M'riar had fallen back on some arrears of stocking-darning.
Dolly was engaged on the object to which she gave lifelong attention,
that of keeping her doll asleep. I do not fancy that Dolly was very
inventive; but then, you may be, at three-and-a-half, seductive without
being inventive. Besides, this monotonous fiction of the need of her
doll for sleep was only a _scenario_ for another incident--the fear of
disturbance by a pleace'n with two heads, a very terrible possibility.

Old Mrs. Prichard, whom I call by that name because she was known by no
other in Sapps Court, was knitting a comforter for Dave. It went very
slowly, this comforter, but was invaluable as an expression of love and
goodwill. She couldn't get up and downstairs because of her back, and
she couldn't read, only a very little, because of her eyes, and she
couldn't hear--not to say _hear_--when read aloud to. This last may have
been no more than what many of us have experienced, for she heard very
plain when spoke to. That is Aunt M'riar's testimony. My impression is
that, as compared with her twin sister Phoebe, Maisie was at this date a
mere invalid. But she looked very like Phoebe for all that, when you
didn't see her hands. The veins were too blue, and their delicacy was
made more delicate by the aggressive scarlet she had chosen for the
comforter.

"It makes a rest to do a little darning now and again." Aunt M'riar said
this, choosing a worsted carefully, so it shouldn't quarrel with its
surroundings. "I take a pleasure in it more than not. On'y as for
knowing when to stop--there!"

"I mind what it was in my early days up-country," said the old woman.
"'Twas not above once in the year any trade would reach us, and suchlike
things as woollen socks were got at by the moth or the ants. They would
sell us things at a high price from the factory as a favour, but my
husband could not abide the sight of t