"Wouldn't that be splendid!" she said. "Oh, wouldn't that be splendid! If I had a house and a piece of land of my own! Oh yes!"
"Well I can easily give it you," he said. "Just whatever you like."
"Isn't that lovely!" she exclaimed.
But he could tell she was thinking merely of the house and the bit of land, and herself a sort of Auntie to his and Monica's children. She was fairly jumping into old-maidom, both feet first. Which was not what he intended. He didn't want her as an Auntie for his children.
They went back to the house, and inspected there. She liked it. It was a stone one-storey house with a great kitchen and three other rooms, all rather low and homely. The dead cousin had wanted his house to be exactly like the houses of other respectable farmers. And he had not been prevented.
The place was a bit tumble-down, but clean. Emma was baking scones, and the sweet smell of scorched flour filled the house. Mary lit the lamp in the little parlour, and set it on the highly-polished but rather ricketty rosewood table, next the photograph album. The family Bible had been removed to the bedroom. But the old man had a photograph album, like any other respectable householder.
Mary drew up one of the green-rep chairs, and opened the book. Jack, looking over her shoulder, started a little as he saw the first photograph: an elderly lady in lace cap and voluminous silken skirts was seated reading a book, while negligently leaning with one hand on her chair was a gentleman, with long white trousers and old-fashioned coat and side-whiskers, obviously having his photograph taken.
This was the identical photograph which held place of honour in Jack's mother's album; being the photograph of her father and mother.
"See!" said Jack. "That's my grandfather and grand-mother. And he must have been the man who took Gran Ellis' leg off. Goodness!"
Mary gazed at them closely.