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72 THE ROMANCE OF RUNNIBEDE

just a passing faintness, Mary. It’s gone now.’

Then, as the Governor sat in his chai and talked to the rest of us: ‘You must be very tired, Edward. I’ get you a cup of cofiee before you ge to bed.”

And though Big Mary begged her to sit down, too, and resi herself, and offered to vo to the kiiehen and make the coffce, mother insisted and went off briskly to attend to it.

Meantime. the Governor and Big Mary talked of trifling things, as they thonght. ‘l'ritline things! if I live a hundred Jives, I shall never forect their conversation of that evening. Oh, the grim humour, the unconscious foolishuess and tragedy of it! There gat Bie Mary at the table, fingering the cloth, look- ing wondrousty wise and endeavouring to talk politely. It was always difficult to converse with her, because, whether by impediment or affectation, she drowned her speech in mouthfuls of breath, which made her articulation seund like the noises of @ person inhaling soup through his whiskers. And the Governor, straining his ears to listen, would auswer: ‘‘Yes—quite so—I didn’t quite catch vou— ‘tis indeed.’’

And then:

“You remember those thick Jeaved plants that you set along the garden fence the last time you returned from Drayton, Air. Winchester?’ Big Mary questioned prondly,

‘I do,’’ from the Governor.

“Yes—them prickly pear that you and us set, faiher,’’ Ted and Dorothy, anticipating Big Mary, broke in with enthusiasm, ‘‘they’re all growin”-— growin’ like winky.’’