"I'll make you a Christmas present of it, dearie," said the old woman. "My mother made me a Christmas present of it when I was your age, and her mother made her one. I haven't a lass of my own to give it to, so I give it to you. It can come on quite sudden like, if you want it, and then you can hear what you choose and not hear what you choose. Do you see?" She leant nearer and whispered, "You're shut out of it all--of having to fetch and carry for 'em, answer their daft questions and run their errands like a dog. I've watched you, my lass. You don't get much peace, do you?" Mary was trembling. "Oh, I don't know what to think," she said. "I--I couldn't do it." "Do what you like," said the old woman. "Take it as a present, anyways--the Crewe deafness for a Christmas present," she chuckled. "Use it or not as you like. You'll find it main amusin', anyways." And into the old face there came again that curious smile as if she carried in her heart some jest fit for the gods on Olympus. The door opened suddenly with another gust of cold air, and the two men came in again, covered with fine snow. "I--I'll not do it," whispered Mary, trembling. "We didn't get far. It's coming on again," remarked John, hanging up his cap. The old woman rose and began to lay the supper, silently and deftly, moving from cupboard to table without looking up. Mary sat by the fire, motionless and speechless, her eyes fixed on the glowing coals. "Any signs o' the deafness in her?" whispered James, looking towards Mary. "It come on my wife jus' when she was that age." "Aye. So I've heered." Then he said loudly, "Mary!" A faint pink colour came into her cheeks, but she did not show by look or movement that she had heard. James looked significantly at her husband. The old woman stood still for a minute with a cup in each hand and smiled her slow, subtle smile. SEATON'S AUNT By WALTER DE LA MARE (From _The London Mercury_) 1922 I had heard rumours of Seaton's Aunt long before I actually encountered her. Seaton, in the hush of confidence, or at any little show of toleration on our part, would remark, "My aunt," or "My old aunt, you know," as if his relative might be a kind of cement to an _entente cordiale_. He had an unusual quantity of pocket-money; or, at any rate, it was bestowed on him in unusually large amounts; and he spent it freely, though none of us would have described him as an "awfully generous chap." "Hullo, Seaton," he would say, "the old Begum?" At the beginning of term, too, he used to bring back surprising and exotic dainties in a box with a trick padlock that accompanied him from his first appearance at Gummidge's in a billycock hat to the rather abrupt conclusion of his school-days.