A fierce struggle ensued. There are sentimental and traditional deferences and reverences, I know, between father and son; but that’s just exactly what prevents the development of an easy friendship. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. Here they were regaled with another plentiful meal by the hospitable carpenter, who personally superintended the repast. “We settled long ago—we’re hard stuff. A militiaman came belting down the stairs, another leapt from outside the front door, and a third, stalwart and stolid, came in through the door that led to the rooms to the front of the house. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. She had been forced to buy herself that pair of boots and a walking-skirt, and the pearl necklace at the pawnbrokers’ had yielded very disappointingly. He had barely said, \"Anytime,\" before she shut the door rather rudely in his face.
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