"Well, I'm sure I don't know what the world's coming to," chirruped Mrs. Toby. "Sarah Bannister was only saying yesterday that the wolds soon won't be fit for any farmers to live on. They've got a labourer's union down at Holderness, and I'm sure I don't know what will happen if we start strikes and things on the farms. The coal strikes last year were bad enough."
"Oh, Sarah Bannister's always thinking we're all going straight to the dogs," said Ursula. "When she goes to heaven she'll always be expecting Lucifer to make another war among the angels."
Mary rose and went to the window.
She wished she had not come. She wished that John would arrive to take her home to Anderby. She wished that she had never left home. It wasn't worth while being irritated by Ursula's superiority and Mrs. Toby's silliness when she couldn't even have the compensation of cuddling Thomas.
She wanted just then to cuddle Thomas very much indeed.
"Why, here's Toby coming along the path," she announced, welcoming a distraction. "He looks full of news."
"I don't really know whether I'm fit to receive a man," murmured Ursula, patting the curls below her cap. "Mary, be a dear and hand me that mirror and the powder. Your husband's so particular," she added archly to Mrs. Toby.
Mary brought the powder-box and silver mirror. She didn't see why she should wait on Ursula just because Ursula had a baby.
"Heavens! why didn't some one tell me that my nose was like a looking-glass? How could you let me go on looking such a fright?" Ursula's busy hand dabbed at her already well powdered face.
It was obvious, thought Mary, that she was delighted with the contrast between her daintiness and her visitors' dishevelment. Mary had driven to Hardrascliffe between scattering showers of April rain. Her hair was blown just anyhow, and there was a hole in her driving gloves.