me in her voice. Maggie was
drawn into the dark little hall that smelt of cracknel biscuits and
lamp oil, there was the green baize door, and then suddenly the shrill
cry of the parrot, and then, out of the dark, the fiery eyes of Thomas
the cat.

"Oh, Miss Maggie!" said Martha. "Or I suppose I should say 'Mrs.' now.
It's a long, long time ..."

"Yes, it is," said Maggie. "How is my aunt?"

"If she lives through the night they'll be surprised," Martha answered,
wheezing and sighing. "Yes, the doctor says--' If Miss Cardinal sees
morning,' he says--" Then as Maggie hesitated at the bottom of the
staircase. "If you'd go straight to the drawing-room, Miss, Mum, Mr.
Magnus is waiting tea for you there."

Maggie went up, past the Armed Men into the old room. She could have
kissed all the things for their old remembered intimacy and
friendliness, the pictures, the books, the old faded carpet, the
fire-screen, the chairs and wall-papers. There, too, was Mr. Magnus,
looking just as he used to look, with his spectacles and his projecting
ears, his timid smile and apologetic voice. He did seem for a moment
afraid of her, then her boyish air, her unfeigned pleasure and
happiness at being back there again, and a certain childish awkwardness
with which she shook hands and sat herself behind the little tea-table
reassured him:

"You're not changed at all," he told her. "Isn't that dreadful?" she
said; "when all the way in the cab I've been telling myself how utterly
different I am."

"I suppose you feel older?" he asked her.

"Older! Why, centuries!"

"You don't look a day," he said, smiling at her.

"That's my short hair," she answered, smiling back at him, "and not
being able to wear my clothes like a grown woman. It's a fact that I
can't get used to long skirts, and in Skeaton it's bad form to cross
your knees. I try and remember--" she sighed. "The truth is I forget
everything just as I used to."

"How is Aunt?" she asked him. He looked very grave, and behind his
smiles and welcome to her she saw that he was a tired and even
exhausted man.

"They don't think she can live through the night," he answered her,
"but, thank God, she's out of all pain and will never suffer any more.
She's tranquil in her mind too, and the one thing she wanted to put her
quiet was to see you. She's been worrying about you for months. Why
didn't you come up to see us all this time, Maggie? That wasn't kind of
you."

"No, it wasn't," sai