She had the
advantage of a free mind, only subconsciously occupied
with her white wool and agile needles; and John had
frequently to choose between her observations and the
politics of the day.
"You saw Lorne's letter this morning, Father?"
John took his pipe out of his mouth. "Yes," he said.
"He seems tremendously taken up with Wallingham. It was
all Wallingham, from one end to the other."
"It's not remarkable," said John Murchison, patiently.
"You'd think he had nothing else to write about. There
was that reception at Lord What-you-may-call-him's, the
Canadian Commissioner's, when the Prince and Princess of
Wales came, and brought their family. I'd like to have
heard something more about that than just that he was
there. He might have noticed what the children had on.
Now that Abby's family is coming about her I seem to have
my hands as full of children's clothes as ever I had.
Abby seems to think there's nothing like my old patterns;
I'm sure I'm sick of the sight of them!"
Mr Murchison refolded his newspaper, took his pipe once
more from his mouth, and said nothing.
"John, put down that paper! I declare it's enough to
drive anybody crazy! Now look at that boy walking across
the lawn. He does it every night, delivering the Express,
and you take no more notice! He's wearing a regular path!"
"Sonny," said Mr Murchison, as the urchin approached,
"you mustn't walk across the grass.
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