The old lady shows her medals

by J. M. Barrie

There is a moment of pleased confusion.

MRS. MICKLEHAM. ‘Really, them sodgers!’

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. ‘The kilties is the worst!’

MRS. TWYMLEY. ‘I’m sure,’ heartily, ‘we don’t grudge you your treats, Mrs. Dowey; and sorry we are that this is the end.’

DOWEY. ‘Yes, it’s the end,’ with a troubled look at his old lady; ‘I must be off in ten minutes.’

The little soul is too gallant to break down in company. She hurries into the pantry and shuts the door.

MRS. MICKLEHAM. ‘Poor thing! But we must run, for you’ll be having some last words to say to her.’

DOWEY. ‘I kept her out long on purpose so as to have less time to say them in.’

He more than half wishes that he could make a bolt to a public-house.

MRS. TWYMLEY. ‘It’s the best way.’ In the important affairs of life there is not much that any one can teach a charwoman. ‘Just a mere nothing, to wish you well, Mr. Dowey.’