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Maxwell, W. B., 1866-1938

"The Devil's Garden"

Locusts could scarcely have eaten more. After tea Dale's
men came from the yard and brought the piano out of the house, and
Mrs. Dale played with stiff fingers while Norah Veale, Rachel, and the
orphans danced on the flags and up and down the grass paths. The poor
little orphans stayed late, and left regretfully. They said it had
been the treat of their lives.
But the most interesting party and the one that Mavis enjoyed most
came upon her unexpectedly.
One week Mr. Druitt the higgler failed to pay his usual visit, and
there was conjecture in the Vine-Pits kitchen as to the reason of his
absence. He had never before allowed a week to pass without a call.
Mavis asked Mary if he had written to her explaining his absence; and
Mary said no, and that she felt very anxious.
But next week he turned up, gay, jovial, looking ten years younger. He
stood just inside the kitchen door, smiled at all, and winked most
archly at Mary.
"See this, Mary?" And he pointed to the band of black crape on his
arm. "Know what that means, Mary?" Then he turned to Mavis. "I call
her Mary now, because I can do it with a clear conscience, ma'am. I
buried Mrs. Druitt yesterday."
This meant a marriage feast for Mary; nor would the higgler permit of
the least delay in its preparation.


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