I Feared They Would Suspect Me Of Eavesdropping, And Taking Out My Penknife, I Began Diligently Scraping The Dead Black Moss From The Letters On The Stone, After Which I Made Pretence Of Copying The Illegible Inscription In My Notebook.

They, however, took no notice of me, and began telling each other what their lives had been since they left Chitterne.

Both had married working men and had lost their husbands many years ago; one was sixty-nine, the other in her sixty-sixth year, and both were strong and well able to work, although they had had hard lives. Then in a tone of triumph, their faces lighting up with a kind of joy, they informed each other that they had never had to go to the parish for relief. Each was anxious to be first in telling how it had come about that she, the poor widow of a working man, had been so much happier in her old age than so many others. So eager were they to tell it that when one spoke the other would cut in long before she finished, and when they talked together it was not easy to keep the two narratives distinct. One was the mother of four daughters, all still unmarried, earning their own livings, one in a shop, another a sempstress, two in service in good houses, earning good wages. Never had woman been so blessed in her children! They would never see their mother go to the House!

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