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Updated: May 14, 2025
Her workbag lay on the table, partly open. It seemed to call and beckon to him. He took it tenderly in his hands, and from its folds there fell a crumpled sheet of paper. He smoothed it out, and found it partly written on in Evelyn's clear round hand. He held it to the light eagerly, as one might read a message from the dead. Who was Evelyn writing to?
Shocked at its loud behaviour, they had very soon agreed that it was no lady, but Anna-Rose was determined to have it at The Open Arms because of her conviction that no house showing the trail of a woman's hand was without a canary. That, and a workbag. She bought them both the same day.
She caught a confused glimpse of bottles and rolls of something carefully done up in white tissue, of a dark blue pasteboard box with a red cross on the visible end, of curiously-shaped scissors. "See any jimmy?" queried the one beside her. "No, but I don't know what I do see." "My dear there's our car! Let me introduce you. The workbag, if you please, of the District Nurse, Mary Winship.
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