"Mother, are you very busy with those letters?"
"Yes, dear, very."
"I thought so; so put them down and come into the garden. There is a bench where the thyme and eglantine——"
"My dear, you frighten me. What has happened?"
My mother rose, one hand on her bosom.
"Nothing to be frightened about. It's only a little tragedy in a life that isn't very full. Come and talk it over."
I gave her my arm and we strolled into the garden like a pair of lovers.
"Do you remember when Hilda came to us?"
"Perfectly."
"I said to you on that day, 'Mother, the new maid is as pretty as a picture.' Do you remember?"