Her face was glowing, her eyes had a soft light in them. She caught up some holly, and began scattering its berries.
“What did you do with yourself, Jessy?”
“I used to sit by the sea—and to walk about. It was very fine. They don’t often have it like that in November, Mrs. Allen said.”
“Did Mrs. Allen sit and walk with you?”
“No. She had enough to do with the house and her lodgers. We only saw her at meal times.”
“The Miss Allens, perhaps?”
“There are no Miss Allens. Only one little boy.”
“Why, then, you had no one but Charley!”
“Charley? Oh, he used to be always about with little Tom Allen—in a boat, or something of that sort. Mrs. Allen thought the sea breezes must be so good for him.”