“My dear!” said Uncle David.
Aunt Lorena lifted her eyebrows.
“I’m sure I didn’t mean to say anything disrespectful,” she said. “I was only describing things as they are.”
That her description was quite right, we were soon to see. Grandmother was still going about the garden when we got home, and it was plain that she had “everybody by the ears.” Young James was almost in tears, the head gardener was sulky, the boys who helped him were laughing, and every one was or pretended to be quite frightened.
“Young James,” said my aunt, “you have kept Madam Knox out too long.”
“Yessum, I know it, mum. I wanted her to go in, mum, but she wouldn’t, mum.”
“Oh, mum, mum, mum!” snapped grandmother, quivering with fatigue. “Who ever heard such talk? Mum, mum, mum!”
Uncle David said nothing. He got out of the motor and gathered his little silver-headed mother up in his arms and carried her into the house as if she were a baby. She put her two arms around his neck and held on tight, and I saw him kiss her very tenderly when he put her down and called Martha to her.
“Mum, mum,” she began saying again, but Uncle David said: “Stop that, mother, please,” and she did.
So, Carin, this is the life at Mallowbanks.