But she stood looking on it all for a few moments with an odd emotion. It was familiar, homely, domestic—yet it was strange. There was an air of expectation about it all. … Then on a sudden the emotions precipitated themselves in tenderness. … Ah! poor Laurie. …
“It is all perfectly right,” she said to the old lady.
“Are the cigarettes there?”
“Yes: I noticed them particularly.”
“And flowers?”
“Yes, flowers too.”
“What time is it, my dear? I can’t see.”
Maggie peered at the clock.
“It’s just after six, Auntie. Will you have the candles?”
The old lady shook her head.
“No, my dear: my eyes can’t stand the light. Why hasn’t the boy come?”
“Why, it’s hardly time yet. Shall I bring him up at once?”
“Just for two minutes,” sighed the old lady. “My head’s bad again.”
“Poor dear,” said Maggie.
“Sit down, my dearest, for a few minutes. You’ll hear the wheels from here. … No, don’t talk or read.”
There, then, the two women sat waiting.