“Poor dear! You may say that Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom pretty well cast her out,” said Mrs. Dingle. “A proper shame I call it, and a proper lesson not to work your fingers to the bone for other people’s children. You’d think mother was a traitor to ’em, instead of the best friend they ever had, or will have—selfish creatures.” “Well, you’ve done her a very good turn by getting her out of that house. Knox will know how to value such a fine woman, though it’s contrary to nature that two old blades like them should feel all younger people feel, I suppose.” “He feels enough not to let mother work in the Mill any more,” said Medora. “And you know you need not, if you don’t want.” “I do, you dear. But I’m only too jolly thankful to be back there and that’s the truth. I’d sooner be there than anywhere, because I’m nearer to you all day, and we can eat our dinner together. But mother’s different and Mr. Knox has very dignified ideas how she should live at her age.” “You say ‘at her age,’ but be blessed if this racket hasn’t knocked years off her,” said Ned. “I can quite imagine a man of half a century old might think her good-looking.” By a curious coincidence Philander was stating the same opinion half a mile down the hill. Indeed Lydia’s face seemed a palimpsest to Mr. Knox, and through more recent writings, to her countenance there would still come a twinkle from the past and a flash and flush, that penetrated thirty years of Time’s caligraphy and seemed to recreate her features, even to a little curl at the corner of her under-lip, that belonged to youth and had been delicious then. Mr. Knox perceived these things. “Dammy, you’re growing younger under my very eyes, Lydia,” he said. She laughed. “Tom didn’t think so,” she answered. “He said that for an aged woman—” “Get him out of your mind,” said Mr. Knox. “The forties are often very unmerciful to the fifties—a trick of human nature I can’t explain.” “I know I’m younger; and it’s largely along of you, Philander, but not all. You can understand how the thought of them two up there have made me younger. I never dreamed they could come together again—not in my most hopeful moments.” “That’s because you didn’t know how short a distance they’d really fallen apart.” “’Tis too good to be true. I’m frightened of it.” “Not you,” he said. “You never was frightened of anything and never will be.” “For that matter there is a dark side,” explained Lydia, “and I’m almost glad there is in a way, because if there wasn’t, the whole story would be contrary to nature and would tumble down like a pack of cards.” “There’s no dark side, and I won’t have you say there is, Lyddy. Why shouldn’t the Lord hatch a piece of happiness for four humans once in a way, if He’s got a mind to do it?” “It ain’t the Almighty; it’s my people at Priory Farm. I heard some bitter things there I do assure you.”