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Updated: May 28, 2025
There were a few old blackened chimney-bricks still there, the step-stone worn by dead and forgotten feet, and the old lilac-bushes that had grown against the front windows. Two poplar-trees, too, stood where the front yard had met the road, casting long shadows like men. Sylvia Crane's house was just beyond, and Barney passed it with a furtive anxious glance, because Charlotte's aunt lived there.
"Yes, I see him on the street t'other day," said the old woman, in her thick dialect. She sat straighter than ever as she gazed across at the garden of lilies and the great Ware house, and the cold step-stone seemed to pierce her old spinal column like a rod of steel; but she never flinched. Mrs. Wilford Biggs and Mr. John Mangam said nothing.
The doctor's wife looked at her dubiously, panting softly all over her great body. It was a warm afternoon. The low red and white rose-bushes sprayed all around the step-stone, and they were full of roses. The doctor's wife raised the brass knocker. "Well, I'd just as lieves," said she, resignedly. "She'd ought to be told, anyway; the doctor said so." The knocker fell with a clang of brass.
He looked preoccupied and worried that night, and while he was as silent as ever, yet his silence had the effect of speech. They sat in their customary places: Mrs. Lynn and Mrs. Biggs in the chairs on the broad step-stone, Sarah and the old woman on the step, and Mr. John Mangam in his chair on the gravel path, when a strange lady came stepping across the hedge from the Ware garden.
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