in her mouth?...

"What I said just now, Mrs. Wardle?... Let me see!... About what my
husband used to say--that Phoebe's memory would go to sleep, not like
mine, and I was a fool to fret so about her. I would not know her again,
maybe, if I saw her, nor she me.... Yes--he said all that.... What?"

"What was the _name_ you said just now? Ralph ... something! Ralph
what?"

"Oh--yes--I know! What Phoebe would have been if she had married my
husband's brother--Mrs. Ralph Daverill...."

"Good Lord!" exclaimed Aunt M'riar.

"Ah, there now!" said the old lady. "To think I should never have told
you his name!" She missed the full strength of Aunt M'riar's
exclamation; accounted it mere surprise at what was either a reference
to a former husband or an admission of a pseudonym. Aunt M'riar was glad
to accept matters as they stood, merely disclaiming excessive
astonishment and suggesting that she might easy have guessed that Mrs.
Prichard had been married more than once. She was not--she said--one of
the prying sort. But she was silent about the cause of her amazement;
putting the name in a safe corner of her memory, to grapple with it
later.

The old woman, however, seemed to have no wish for concealments, saying
at once:--"I never had but one husband, Mrs. Wardle; but I'll tell you.
I've always gone by the name of Prichard ever since my son.... But I
never told you of him neither! It is he I would forget...." This
disturbed her--made her take the caressing hand restlessly from Dave's
head, to hold and be held by the other. She had to be silent a moment;
then said hurriedly:--"He was Ralph Thornton, after his father and
uncle. His father was Thornton--Thornton Daverill.... I'll tell you
another time." Thereupon Aunt M'riar held her tongue, and Mrs. Burr came
in with the fourpennyworth of crumpets.

* * * * *

An unskilful chronicler throws unfair burdens on his reader. The latter
need not read the chronicle certainly; there is always that resource!
If, however, he reads this one, let him keep in mind that Aunt M'riar
did _not_ know that the escaped prisoner of her newspaper-cutting had
been asking for a widow of the name of Daverill, whom he had somehow
traced to Sapps Court, any more than she knew--at that date--that old
Mrs. Prichard should really have been called old Mrs. Daverill. She only
knew that _his_ name was Daverill. So it was not in order to prevent
Mrs. Prichard seeing it that