The soft
soap--Mrs Murchison had a barrelful boiled every spring
in the back yard, an old colonial economy she hated to
resign--made a fascinating brown lather with iridescent
bubbles. Advena poured cupfuls of it from on high to see
the foam rise, till her mother told her for mercy's sake
to get on with those dishes. She stood before a long low
window, looking out into the garden and the light,
filtering through apple branches on her face showed her
strongly featured and intelligent for fourteen. Advena
was named after one grandmother; when the next girl came
Mrs Murchison, to make an end of the matter, named it
Abigail, after the other. She thought both names outlandish
and acted under protest, but hoped that now everybody
would be satisfied. Lorne came after Advena, at the period
of a naive fashion of christening the young sons of Canada
in the name of her Governor-General. It was a simple way
of attesting a loyal spirit, but with Mrs Murchison more
particular motives operated. The Marquis of Lorne was
not only the deputy of the throne, he was the son-in-law
of a good woman of whom Mrs Murchison thought more, and
often said it, for being the woman she was than for being
twenty times a Queen; and he had made a metrical translation
of the Psalms, several of which were included in the
revised psalter for the use of the Presbyterian Church
in Canada, from which the whole of Knox Church sang to
the praise of God every Sunday.
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