“Gi’ me the Book,” he commanded, pointing dramatically at the big Bible lying upon the window-ledge between two pots of scented geranium. John fetched it, laying it upon the kitchen table.
“Where be my specs?”
Agatha saw them on the chimney-piece, and handed them to him in silence. With trembling fingers he put them on. Then he opened the Bible, turning a page or two, till he found the fly-leaf.
“I be going blind,” he muttered feebly.
“No, no; let me wipe your glasses.”
Agatha wiped his glasses.
“That be better, my girl. Aye.” He ran his finger along an entry in faded ink. “Here we be. . . . ‘Mary Jane, barn October 2nd, 1897, died June 7th, 1904.’ My first-barn, a dinky lil’ maid as never was.”
Agatha, much moved, and relapsing unconsciously into the Doric, said excitedly:
“I mind her curly lil’ head, I do.”
“Ah-h-h! Here we be agen. ‘Ellen Adeliza, barn November 9th, 1898, died June 9th, 1904,’ just two days arter her sister.”