"
"Yes, if they are not under the horses' feet," said Mrs. Makely, mingling
instruction and amusement very judiciously in her reply. "Are they all
yours?"
"Only five," said the mother, and she pointed to the alien in her flock.
"He's my sister's. She lives just below here." Her children had grouped
themselves about her, and she kept passing her hands caressingly over
their little heads as she talked. "My sister has nine children, but she
has the rest at church with her to-day."
"You don't speak like an American," Mrs. Makely suggested.
"No, we're English. Our husbands work in the quarry. That's _my_ little
palace." The woman nodded her head toward the cottage.
"It's going to be very nice," said Mrs. Makely, with an evident perception
of her pride in it.
"Yes, if we ever get money to finish it. Thank you for the children."
"Oh, it was this gentleman." Mrs. Makely indicated me, and I bore the
merit of my good action as modestly as I could.
"Then thank _you_, sir," said the young woman, and she asked Mrs. Makely:
"You're not living about here, ma'am?"
"Oh no, we're staying at the hotel."
"At the hotel! It must be very dear, there.
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