“My poor old mother’s gone at last,” she sobbed. We were truly sorry for her grief, and asked when she had died.
“Well, I ’spect it would be about three or four this morning; that’s the time they usually go. I had a letter last night saying as how they didn’t reckon she’d live the night. So she’ll be gone by now. My poor mother! I’ll never see her again!” and she wept afresh.
I’m glad to say the mother is still alive, and very flourishing.
It was about a fortnight later that Virginia gave me the wildly-exciting information, culled from the local paper, that some Roman remains had just been excavated. I murmured “Oh!” in that absent-minded way people will do when their thoughts are called off the subject of What shall we have for the midday meal? to higher things.
I was thinking like this: “I did intend to have steak and kidney pudding, but as the butcher is late, there won’t be time to cook it; there isn’t enough cold tongue—at least, that knobbly end part is no use—we have plenty of eggs in the house, so we must just make out with that soup left over from yesterday and omelettes; or we might easily have——”
“Either a viaduct or an amphitheatre or a villa; they aren’t sure as yet which it is,” went on Virginia. “You read about it yourself; it’s awfully interesting. There; in that column—see? ‘Roman Remains at Penglyn.’”
“At Penglyn? It can’t be Zebadiah,” I commented; “he wasn’t as old as that!”
Nevertheless, we aren’t particular to a few hundred years in our village. For I remember last year an old woman telling me, “Have you heard, m’m, of the great news in the village? The Black Prince is staying at the Inn! Yes, to be sure! And he seems to understand our language beautiful, he do; though they say he does speak the foreign to a gentleman what’s staying there with him. The only thing I was surprised about was to see how young he do look, considering of his age. Why, I remember hearing tell about him when I was at school!” Later on I found the historic potentate was a harmless Indian law-student.
Virginia kept on about the Roman excavations, and announced her intention of going to see them. I protested that I wasn’t going to be hauled across a stony mountainous region in a wagonette, and then change twice by slow train, an hour or so to wait at each change, and ditto to get back, all to see a few brick walls, when the garden so badly needed weeding.