And all the time there had been Eliza making part of her life, from the plump little girl whom people stopped to admire to the bold intruder at the altar-rail. Looking back, she could see herself as a stiff and grave-eyed child, grimly regarding the round-faced giggler from the start. Even then she had always been the dumb man in the stocks, of whom the street-urchin that was Eliza made mock as she danced and played. Only once had she ever definitely got the better of her, and it had had to last her all her life. Eliza had had many lovers, drawn by the counterfeit kindliness which hid her callous soul, but when she had chosen at last, it was Simon who was her choice. Perhaps the one gleam of romance in Eliza’s life had been when she looked at Simon ... and Simon had looked away. Quite early he had fixed his affections on Sarah, and during their long courtship he had never swerved. Plain, business-like Sarah had drawn him after her as the moon draws the willing tide.... She began to put away the things she had bought in Witham, stowing them in a cupboard between the pot-rail and the door. During the morning she had felt royally that she was buying half the town, but now she saw how small her share of the marketing had been. There was a troubled feeling at the back of her mind that something had been missed, and even though she was sure of her purchases, she counted them again. Afterwards, she stood muttering worriedly through the list ... tea, candles, a reel of cotton ... and the rest. And then, suddenly, without any help from the candles and cotton, she remembered what it was, and smiled at the childish memory that would not stay asleep. More than twenty years, she reminded herself,--and yet she still looked for the fairing that Geordie had brought her on Martinmas Day! There had scarcely been any special season,--Christmas, Whitsun, Easter or Mid-Lent,--but he had remembered to mark it by some frolicsome gift. He had always withheld it from her until the last, and then had stood by her laughing while she unwrapped some foolish monkey on dancing wires. All the time he was saying how splendid the fairing was going to be,--"It’s gold, mother, real gold,--as bright as the King’s crown!" And when she had opened it, she would pretend to be cast down, and then put it snugly away and say it was "real grand!" Jim had had his fairings for her, too, but she was trying her very hardest not to remember those. Jim’s had been prettier and more thoughtful,--often of real use, but she had long since forgotten what the things were like. A mug with her name on it, a handkerchief, a brooch,--long ago broken or lost, or even given away. But every ridiculous object of Geordie’s was under lock and key, with even a bit of camphor to keep the monkey from the moth....