far corner. It was a hive of activity. Jack had the gate into his vegetable plot wired along the bottom, but when everything was harvested in the autumn, the fowl got the run of the entire acre and were delighted with the extra territory. This morning they were engaged in their different pursuits around the small yard.
As she walked down the hill towards Nolan’s, she went over in her mind the poetry that she had learned off the night before. One morning the previous week she had been so intent on doing this that she had not realised that she was reciting out loud until an amused Sarah Jones had looked out over the small white gate in front of her well-kept cottage. Now she stopped to call good morning to grey-haired Sarah, who was feeding her hens in a corner of her well-manicured garden.Sarah was a close friend of Jack’s and had been of Nana Nellie, and Nora knew that Sarah often called to Jack’s cottage to feed his hens and ducks if for any reason he was delayed in Mossgrove. She always wore a floral coat overall that somehow wrapped Sarah up in a small, clean, happy package. Now she looked questioningly at Nora’s bag of books.
“That’s a heavy load of books for a young one to be dragging along with her,” she said sympathetically, leaning over the gate.
“I don’t always have so many,” Nora told her, “but today all the subjects are on.”
“You’re a great girl,” Sarah assured her, “and I won’t delay you now because Rosie will be out at the gate waiting.”
“Rosie is never waiting,” Nora said. “She is always running after herself at the last minute.”
Sarah smiled with understanding as she slipped her hand into the pocket of her apron and produced a bar of chocolate. “You can share this between the two of you on the way in the road,” Sarah told her.
“That’s great,” Nora said, even though privately she thought that she might be getting a bit too old for this kind of thing. Ever since she was a little girl, Jack and Nana Nellie had always pulled small treats out of their pockets. Over the years since Nana Nellie had died, Sarah had slipped into her shoes. Sarah was very friendly with her other grandmother, Nana Agnes. These two women and Jack were the pillars of her life.
As she approached Nolan’s gate, she was surprised that Rosie was waiting, and she could see from her face that she was bubbling with excitement.
“You’re late,” Rosie accused.
“I’m not,” Nora protested. “I’m always later than this andyou’re never out at the gate.”
“Well, this morning is different,” Rosie announced.
“I know by your face that you have news about something. Your face tells everything that’s behind it.”
“Isn’t it terrible the way that I can’t keep anything to myself,” Rosie lamented, “because even though I might not want to tell it, my face tells the whole story before I open my mouth.”
“But look at it this way,” Nora comforted her, “you’d make a great actress because your face would be full of expression, and it will help with your singing too.”
“You’re a great comfort to me,” Rosie laughed, giving Nora a clap on the back.
“My God, Rosie, you’re as strong as a horse,” Nora told her, wincing under Rosie’s exuberance.
“Don’t say that,” Rosie protested. “You know that I’m trying to lose weight and become tall and willowy like you.”
“But, Rosie, you’re lovely and curvy, and all the lads think that you’re gorgeous.”
“I’m not interested in all the lads, only one, and he lives in a house where he has a mother like a model and a sister like a hunter, so he’s used to being surrounded by elegant females.”
“But why would Peter want a girlfriend like his mother or his sister?” Nora asked her.
“Don’t know,” Rosie sighed, “but whatever he wants, I must not have it because he treats me like he treats you.”
“But, Rosie, your brother Jeremy treats me like he treats you.”
“And
As she walked down the hill towards Nolan’s, she went over in her mind the poetry that she had learned off the night before. One morning the previous week she had been so intent on doing this that she had not realised that she was reciting out loud until an amused Sarah Jones had looked out over the small white gate in front of her well-kept cottage. Now she stopped to call good morning to grey-haired Sarah, who was feeding her hens in a corner of her well-manicured garden.Sarah was a close friend of Jack’s and had been of Nana Nellie, and Nora knew that Sarah often called to Jack’s cottage to feed his hens and ducks if for any reason he was delayed in Mossgrove. She always wore a floral coat overall that somehow wrapped Sarah up in a small, clean, happy package. Now she looked questioningly at Nora’s bag of books.
“That’s a heavy load of books for a young one to be dragging along with her,” she said sympathetically, leaning over the gate.
“I don’t always have so many,” Nora told her, “but today all the subjects are on.”
“You’re a great girl,” Sarah assured her, “and I won’t delay you now because Rosie will be out at the gate waiting.”
“Rosie is never waiting,” Nora said. “She is always running after herself at the last minute.”
Sarah smiled with understanding as she slipped her hand into the pocket of her apron and produced a bar of chocolate. “You can share this between the two of you on the way in the road,” Sarah told her.
“That’s great,” Nora said, even though privately she thought that she might be getting a bit too old for this kind of thing. Ever since she was a little girl, Jack and Nana Nellie had always pulled small treats out of their pockets. Over the years since Nana Nellie had died, Sarah had slipped into her shoes. Sarah was very friendly with her other grandmother, Nana Agnes. These two women and Jack were the pillars of her life.
As she approached Nolan’s gate, she was surprised that Rosie was waiting, and she could see from her face that she was bubbling with excitement.
“You’re late,” Rosie accused.
“I’m not,” Nora protested. “I’m always later than this andyou’re never out at the gate.”
“Well, this morning is different,” Rosie announced.
“I know by your face that you have news about something. Your face tells everything that’s behind it.”
“Isn’t it terrible the way that I can’t keep anything to myself,” Rosie lamented, “because even though I might not want to tell it, my face tells the whole story before I open my mouth.”
“But look at it this way,” Nora comforted her, “you’d make a great actress because your face would be full of expression, and it will help with your singing too.”
“You’re a great comfort to me,” Rosie laughed, giving Nora a clap on the back.
“My God, Rosie, you’re as strong as a horse,” Nora told her, wincing under Rosie’s exuberance.
“Don’t say that,” Rosie protested. “You know that I’m trying to lose weight and become tall and willowy like you.”
“But, Rosie, you’re lovely and curvy, and all the lads think that you’re gorgeous.”
“I’m not interested in all the lads, only one, and he lives in a house where he has a mother like a model and a sister like a hunter, so he’s used to being surrounded by elegant females.”
“But why would Peter want a girlfriend like his mother or his sister?” Nora asked her.
“Don’t know,” Rosie sighed, “but whatever he wants, I must not have it because he treats me like he treats you.”
“But, Rosie, your brother Jeremy treats me like he treats you.”
“And
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