"'They are, truly,' says he, lookin' at her so wistful-like.
"'Well, we'll see,' says she, noddin' at him very kind."
"An' did she really look over everything Mrs. Domeny, my dear?" interrupted Mrs. Cross eagerly. "She must ha' been a wonderful sensible woman!"
"You'd ha' said so if you could ha' seen her. There! there wasn't so much as a pan as she didn't look into. Behind the doors, and under the bed; she turned over the very blankets, I do assure 'ee. Upstairs an' down she went, an' roun' the yard, an' down the garden, an' into the shed. Poor Brother John kep' a-trottin' after her, an' at last she come back to the kitchen again."
"Poor Brother John kep a trottin' after her"
"'Well, Mr. Domeny,' says she, 'if ye'll go to the expense of a few buckets of whitewash, an' give a lick o' paint to the door here, I think it 'ull do very well.' So they settled the day an' everythin' there an' then."
"Well, to be sure!" ejaculated Mrs. Cross. "It do sound jist like a book; an' talkin' o' that, I suppose she did show en the bank-book?"
"She never gave en so much as a sight o' it, Mrs. Cross, if you believe me. Kep' it locked up, she did, and never let him throw his eye over it till the day of her death. I went up to see en so soon as I heard as all were over, an' found en cryin' fit to break his heart.
"'Come, Brother John,' says I, ''tis a sad loss, as we do all know, but you must bear up.'