Mrs. Palling seemed rather doubtful as to whether Isabella was not, in her own phraseology, making game of her, for she was silent for a moment, and then repeated positively—
"That were a coffin, sure enough. Wonderful small that were. I'll be goin' over presently. But if some folks won't believe I don't feel no manner of doubt but what that's true," and so saying she departed.
Isabella laughed. "You must forgive Mrs. Palling," she said. "She is an excellent, hard-working woman, and most kind-hearted, although perhaps she hasn't given you that impression. Now let us have our tea comfortably."
CHAPTER IX
A SQUARE IN THE PATCHWORK
"Reading into the Unknown
Hopes that we have long outgrown.
Weaving into the Unseen
Tidings of the Might-have-Been."—S. R. LYSAGHT.
"What do you do for companionship?" asked Philippa presently. "Don't you find it a little lonely here sometimes?"
"Yes, I am lonely sometimes. There is no use in denying it," answered Isabella. "But I am not more lonely here than I should be anywhere else. Some people are born to be alone, it seems to me; it must just be accepted as a fact and made the best of. But I lead a very busy life in my own way, and I have plenty of books, as you see."
"Oh," cried Philippa, as she turned to a small bookcase which stood close at hand, "I see you have some of Ian Verity's books. Do you like them? My father was particularly fond of them, and we read most of them together. His writing appeals to me tremendously. I have fought more than one battle on his behalf with people who say he is too hard on women, and that some of his characters are overdrawn. Do you know him?"