” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. SHOOH!” “That’s no reason,” said Ann Veronica, speaking through her handkerchief and stopping abruptly. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. ” She took a step. She was dressed in a tattered black stuff gown, discoloured by various stains, and intended, it would seem, from the remnants of rusty crape with which it was here and there tricked out, to represent the garb of widowhood, and held in her arms a sleeping infant, swathed in the folds of a linsey-woolsey shawl. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. “Oh, that. "What is a family album?" "You poor child, do you mean to tell me you've never seen a family album? Why, it's a book filled with the photographs of your grandmothers and grandfathers, your aunts and uncles and cousins, your mother and father when they were little. " "Everything. " "Fine! I'll be wanting a guide. I still get sinus infections with fever all the time, she says it has been that way since I was a baby.
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