There were tears standing in Ann's grey eyes as she said, "I know it's a ridiculous thing to say, but it seems to me that the people who knew Father and were blessed by him have a better idea of what that peace means—oh, Mother, aren't we a couple of foolish women sitting lauding our own!"
"No," Mrs. Douglas said stoutly; "we're not. If Martyrs' people were in the room now I'm sure they would say 'Amen' to all you say of your father. And I lived with him for thirty-four years and I couldn't imagine a better man. He was a saint, and yet he was human and funny and most lovable, and that isn't too common a combination. There can be nothing more terrible than to be married to a sanctimonious saint. Imagine being forgiven all the time! Every time you lost your temper or spoke maliciously or unadvisedly, to see a pained expression on his face!"
"It would drive one to crime," said Ann solemnly.
CHAPTER XXII
Marget stood in the middle of the room pleating her black silk apron between her fingers. She wanted to be asked to sit down, for she had heard Ann and her mother talking of the removal from Glasgow, and she felt that what she had to say on the subject was of value.
"Cornel and Mrs. Moncrieff 'll be comin' next week," she reminded them. "I'm airin' the rooms an' pitten' bottles in the beds noo for I'm never verra sure aboot unused rooms in a new hoose. Ye'll no' can write when they're here, Miss Ann. It'll tak' ye a' yer time to crack wi' the Cornel."
"Oh, but it's a long time till next week, Marget," Ann said, as she went over to the bureau to address a parcel she had been wrapping up. "I'll have finished my writing by then."
"Is that sweeties for the bairns?" Marget asked, eyeing the parcel and sitting down as if by accident. "Ye'll file their stomachs."
"It's only Miss Smart's tablet. I never go to Priorsford without getting them some tablet at their dear Miss Smart's. Rory said to me solemnly the last time he was here, after a very successful visit to the shop, 'There's nobody in England like Miss Smart.'"