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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Gray Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Little Gray Lady
+       1909
+
+Author: F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+Release Date: December 3, 2007 [EBook #23695]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE GRAY LADY ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE GRAY LADY
+
+By F. Hopkinson Smith
+
+1909
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+Once in a while there come to me out of the long ago the fragments of a
+story I have not thought of for years--one that has been hidden in the
+dim lumber-room of my brain where I store my by-gone memories.
+
+These fragments thrust themselves out of the past as do the cuffs of
+an old-fashioned coat, the flutings of a flounce, or the lacings of a
+bodice from out a quickly opened bureau drawer. Only when you follow
+the cuff along the sleeve to the broad shoulder; smooth out the crushed
+frill that swayed about her form, and trace the silken thread to the
+waist it tightened, can you determine the fashion of the day in which
+they were worn.
+
+And with the rummaging of this lumber-room come the odors: dry smells
+from musty old trunks packed with bundles of faded letters and worthless
+deeds tied with red tape; musty smells from dust-covered chests, iron
+bound, holding mouldy books, their backs loose; pungent smells
+from cracked wardrobes stuffed with moth-eaten hunting-coats,
+riding-trousers, and high boots with rusty spurs--cross-country riders
+these--roisterers and gamesters--a sorry lot, no doubt.
+
+Or perhaps it is an old bow-legged high-boy--its club-feet slippered on
+easy rollers--the kind with deep drawers kept awake by rattling brass
+handles, its outside veneer so highly polished that you are quite sure
+it must have been brought up in some distinguished family. The scent of
+old lavender and spiced rose leaves, and a stick or two of white orris
+root, haunt this relic: my lady's laces must be kept fresh, and so must
+my lady's long white mitts--they reach from her dainty knuckles quite
+to her elbow. And so must her cobwebbed silk stockings and the filmy
+kerchief she folds across her bosom:
+
+It is this kind of a drawer that I am opening now--one belonging to the
+Little Gray Lady.
+
+As I look through its contents my eyes resting on the finger of a glove,
+the end of a lace scarf, and the handle of an old fan, my mind goes back
+to the last time she wore them. Then I begin turning everything upside
+down, lifting the corner of this incident, prying under that no bit of
+talk, recalling what he said and who told of it (I shall have the whole
+drawer empty before I get through), and whose fault it was that the
+match was broken off, and why she, of all women in the world, should
+have remained single all those years. Why, too, she should have lost her
+identity, so to speak, and become the Little Gray Lady.
+
+And yet no sobriquet could better express her personality: She was
+little--a dainty, elf-like littleness, with tiny feet and wee hands;
+she was gray--a soft, silver gray--too gray for her forty years (and
+this fragment begins when she was forty); and she was a lady in every
+beat of her warm heart; in every pressure of her white hand; in her
+voice, speech--in all her thoughts and movements.
+
+She lived in the quaintest of old houses fronted by a brick path
+bordered with fragrant box, which led up to an old-fashioned porch,
+its door brightened by a brass knocker. This, together with the
+knobs, steps, and slits of windows on each side of the door, was kept
+scrupulously clean by old Margaret, who had lived with her for years.
+
+But it is her personality and not her surroundings that lingers in my
+memory. No one ever heard anything sweeter than her voice; in and nobody
+ever looked into a lovelier face, even if there were little hollows in
+the cheeks and shy, fanlike wrinkles lurking about the corners of her
+lambent brown eyes. Nor did her gray hair mar her beauty. It was not
+old, dry, and withered--a wispy gray. (That is not the way it happened.)
+It was a new, all-of-a-sudden gray, and in less than a week--so
+Margaret once told me--bleaching its brown gold to silver. But the
+gloss remained, and so did the richness of the folds, and the wealth and
+weight of it.
+
+Inside the green-painted door, with its white trim and brass knocker and
+knobs, there was a narrow hall hung with old portraits, opening into a
+room literally all fireplace. Here there were gouty sofas, and five or
+six big easy-chairs ranged in a half-circle, with arms held out as
+if begging somebody to sit in them; and here, too, was an embroidered
+worsted fire screen that slid up and down a standard, to shield one's
+face from the blazing logs; and there were queer tables and old-gold
+curtains looped back with brass rosettes--ears really--behind which
+the tresses of the parted curtains were tucked; and there were more old
+portraits in dingy frames, and samplers under glass, and a rug which
+some aunt had made with her own hands from odds and ends; and a huge
+work-basket spilling worsteds, and last, and by no manner of means
+least, a big chintz-covered rocking-chair, the little lady's very
+own--its thin ankles and splay feet hidden by a modest frill. There were
+all these things and a lot more--and yet I still maintain that the
+room was just one big fireplace. Not alone because of its size (and it
+certainly was big: many a doubting curly head, losing its faith in Santa
+Claus, has crawled behind the old fire-dogs, the child's fingers tight
+about the Little Gray Lady's, and been told to look up into the blue--a
+lesson never forgotten all their lives), but because of the wonderful
+and never-to-be-told-of things which constantly took place before its
+blazing embers.
+
+For this fireplace was the Little Gray Lady's altar. Here she dispensed
+wisdom and cheer and love. Everybody in Pomford village had sat in one
+or the other of the chairs grouped about it and had poured out their
+hearts to her. All sorts of pourings: love affairs, for instance, that
+were hopeless until she would take the girl's hand in her own and smooth
+out the tangle; to-say nothing of bickerings behind closed doors, with
+two lives pulling apart until her dear arms brought them together.
+
+But all this is only the outside of the old mahogany high-boy with its
+meerschaum-pipe polish, spraddling legs, and rattling handles.
+
+Now for the Little Gray Lady's own particular drawer.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+It was Christmas Eve, and Kate Dayton, one of Pomford's pretty girls,
+had found the Little Gray Lady sitting alone before the fire gazing into
+the ashes, her small frame almost hidden in the roomy chair. The winter
+twilight had long since settled and only the flickering blaze of the
+logs and the dim glow from one lone candle illumined the room. This,
+strange to say, was placed on a table in a corner where its rays shed
+but little light in the room.
+
+"Oh! Cousin Annie," moaned Kate (everybody in Pomford who got close
+enough to touch the Little Gray Lady's hand called her "Cousin
+Annie"--it was only the outside world who knew her by her other
+sobriquet), "I didn't mean anything. Mark came in just at the wrong
+minute, and--and--" The poor girl's tears smothered the rest.
+
+"Don't let him go, dearie," came the answer, when she had heard the
+whole story, the girl on her knees, her head in her lap, the wee hand
+stroking the fluff of golden hair dishevelled in her grief.
+
+"Oh, but he won't stay!" moaned Kate. "He says he is going to Rio--way
+out to South America to join his Uncle Harry."
+
+"He won't go, dearie--not if you tell him the truth and make him tell
+you the truth. Don't let your pride come in; don't beat around the bush
+or make believe you are hurt or misunderstood, or that you don't care.
+You do care. Better be a little humble now than humble all your life. It
+only takes a word. Hold out your hand and say: 'I'm sorry, Mark--please
+forgive me.' If he loves you--and he does--"
+
+The girl raised her head: "Oh! Cousin Annie! How do you know?"
+
+She laughed gently. "Because he was here, dearie, half an hour ago
+and told me so. He thought you owed him the dance, and he was a little
+jealous of Tom."
+
+"But Tom had asked me--"
+
+"Yes--and so had Mark--"
+
+"Yes--but he had no right--" She was up in arms again: she wouldn't--she
+couldn't--and again an outburst of tears choked her words.
+
+The Little Gray Lady had known Kate's mother, now dead, and what might
+have happened but for a timely word--and she knew to her own sorrow
+what had happened for want of one. Kate and Mark should not repeat that
+experience if she could help it. She had saved the mother in the old
+days by just such a word. She would save the daughter in the same way.
+And the two were much alike--same slight, girlish figure; same blond
+hair and blue eyes; same expression, and the same impetuous, high-strung
+temperament. "If that child's own mother walked in this minute I
+couldn't tell 'em apart, they do favor one another so," old Margaret
+had told her mistress when she opened the door for the girl, and she
+was right. Pomford village was full of these hereditary likenesses. Mark
+Dab-ney, whom all the present trouble was about, was so like his father
+at his age that his Uncle Harry had picked Mark out on a crowded dock
+when the lad had visited him in Rio the year before, although he had
+not seen the boy's father for twenty years--so strong was the family
+likeness.
+
+If there was to be a quarrel it must not be between the Dabneys and the
+Daytons, of all families. There had been suffering enough in the old
+days.
+
+"Listen, dearie," she said in her gentle, crooning tone, patting the
+girl's cheek as she talked. "A quarrel where there is no love is soon
+forgotten, but a difference when both love may, if not quickly healed,
+leave a scar that will last through life."
+
+"There are as good fish in the sea as were ever caught," cried the girl
+in sheer bravado, brushing away her tears.
+
+"Don't believe it, dearie--and don't ever say it. That has wrecked more
+lives than you know. That is what I once knew a girl to say--a girl just
+about your age--"
+
+"But she found somebody else, and that's just what I'm going to do.
+I'm not going to have Mark read me a lecture every time I want to do
+something he doesn't like. Didn't your girl find somebody else?"
+
+"No--never. She is still unmarried."
+
+"Yes--but it wasn't her fault, was it?"
+
+"Yes--although she did not know it at the time. She opened a door
+suddenly and found her lover alone with another girl. The two had stolen
+off together where they would not be interrupted. He was pleading for
+his college friend--straightening out just some such foolish quarrel as
+you have had with Mark--but the girl would not understand; nor did she
+know the truth until a year afterward. Then it was too late."
+
+The Little Gray Lady stopped, lifted her hand from the girl's head, and
+turned her face toward the now dying fire.
+
+"And what became of him?" asked the girl in a hushed voice, as if she
+dared not awaken the memory.
+
+"He went away and she has never seen him since."
+
+For some minutes there was silence, then Kate said in a braver tone:
+
+"And he married somebody else?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, she died?"
+
+"No."
+
+The Littie Lady had not moved, nor had she taken her eyes from the
+blaze. She seemed to be addressing some invisible body who could hear
+and understand. The girl felt its influence and a tremor ran through
+her. The fitful blaze casting weird shadows helped this feeling. At
+last, with an effort, she asked:
+
+"You say you know them both, Cousin Annie?"
+
+"Yes--he was my dear friend. I was just thinking of him when you came
+in."
+
+The charred logs broke into a heap of coals; the blaze flickered and
+died. But for the lone candle in the corner the room would have been in
+total darkness.
+
+"Shall I light another candle, Cousin Annie?" shivered the girl, "or
+bring that one nearer?"
+
+"No, it's Christmas Eve, and I only light one candle on Christmas Eve."
+
+"But what's one candle! Why, father has the whole house as bright as day
+and every fire blazing." The girl sprang to her feet and stepped nearer
+the hearth. She would be less nervous, she thought, if she moved about,
+and then the warmth of the fire was somehow reassuring. "Please let me
+light them all, Cousin Annie," she pleaded, reaching out her hand toward
+a cluster in an old-fashioned candelabra--"and if there aren't enough
+I'll get more from Margaret."
+
+"No, no--one will do. It is an old custom of mine; I've done it for
+twenty years."
+
+"But don't you love Christmas?" Kate argued, her nervousness increasing.
+The ghostly light and the note of pain in her companion's voice were
+strangely affecting.
+
+The Little Gray Lady leaned forward in her chair and looked long and
+steadily at the heap of smouldering ashes; then she answered slowly,
+each word vibrating with the memory of some hidden sorrow: "I've had
+mine, dearie."
+
+"But you can have some more," urged Kate.
+
+"Not like those that have gone before, dearie--no, not like those."
+
+Something in the tones of her voice and quick droop of the dear head
+stirred the girl to her depths. Sinking to her knees she hid her face in
+the Little Lady's lap.
+
+"And you sit here in the dark with only one candle?" she whispered.
+
+"Yes, always," she answered, her fingers stroking the fair hair. "I can
+see those I have loved better in the dark. Sometimes the room is full of
+people; I have often to strain my eyes to assure myself that the door is
+really shut. All sorts of people come--the girls and boys I knew when I
+was young. Some are dead; some are far away; some so near that should I
+open the window and shout their names many of them could hear. There are
+fewer above ground every year--but I welcome all who come. It's the old
+maid's hour, you know--this twilight hour. The wives are making ready
+the supper; the children are romping; lovers are together in the corner
+where they can whisper and not be overheard. But none of this disturbs
+me--no big man bursts in, letting in the cold. I have my chair, my
+candle, my thoughts, and my fire. When you get to be my age, Kate, and
+live alone--and you might, dearie, if Mark should leave you--you will
+love these twilight hours, too."
+
+The girl reached up her hands and touched the Little Gray Lady's cheek,
+whispering:
+
+"But aren't you very, _very_ lonely. Cousin Annie?"
+
+"Yes, sometimes."
+
+For a moment Kate remained silent, then she asked in a faltering voice
+through which ran a note almost of terror:
+
+"Do you think I shall ever be like--like--that is--I shall ever be--all
+alone?"
+
+"I don't know, dearie. No one can ever tell what will happen. I never
+thought twenty years ago I should be all alone--but I am."
+
+The girl raised her head, and with a cry of pain threw her arms around
+the Little Gray Lady's neck:
+
+"Oh, no!--no! I can't bear it!" she sobbed! "I'll tell Mark! I'll send
+for him--to-night-before I go to bed!"
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+It was not until Kate Dayton reached her father's gate that the spell
+wrought by the flickering firelight and the dim glow of the ghostly
+candle wore off. The crisp air of the winter night--for it was now quite
+dark--had helped, but the sight of Mark's waiting figure striding along
+the snow-covered path to her home and his manly outspoken apology,
+"Please forgive me, Kate, I made an awful fool of myself," followed by
+her joyous refrain, "Oh, Mark! I've been so wretched!" had done more. It
+had all come just as Cousin Annie had said; there had been neither pride
+nor anger. Only the Little Gray Lady's timely word.
+
+But if the spell was broken the pathetic figure of the dear woman, her
+eyes fixed on the dying embers, still lingered in Kate's mind.
+
+"Oh, Mark, it is so pitiful to see her!--and I got so frightened; the
+whole room seemed filled with ghosts. Christmas seems her loneliest
+time. She won't have but one candle lighted, and she sits and mopes in
+the dark. Oh, it's dreadful! I tried to cheer her up, but she says she
+likes to sit in the dark, because then all the dead people she loves can
+come to her. Can't we do something to make her happy? She is so lovely,
+and she is so little, and she is so dear!"
+
+They had entered the house, now a blaze of light. Kate's father was
+standing on the hearth rug, his back to a great fireplace filled with
+roaring logs.
+
+"Where have you two gadabouts been?" he laughed merrily. "What do you
+mean by staying out this late? Don't you know it's Christmas Eve?"
+
+"We've been to see Cousin Annie, daddy; and it would make your heart
+ache to look at her! She's there all alone. Can't you go down and bring
+her up here?"
+
+"Yes, I could, but she wouldn't come, not on Christmas Eve. Did she have
+her candle burning?"
+
+"Yes, just one poor little miserable candle that hardly gave any light
+at all."
+
+"And it was in the corner on a little table?"
+
+"Yes, all by itself."
+
+"Poor dear, she always lights it. She's lighted it for almost twenty
+years."
+
+"Is it for somebody she loved who died?"
+
+"No--it's for somebody she loved who is alive, but who never came back
+and won't."
+
+He studied them both for a moment, as if in doubt, then he added in a
+determined voice, motioning them to a seat beside him:
+
+"It is about time you two children heard the story straight, for it
+concerns you both, so I'll tell you. Your Uncle Harry, Mark, is the man
+who never came back and won't. He was just your age at the time. He and
+Annie were to be married in a few months, then everything went to smash.
+And it was your mother, Kate, who was the innocent cause of his exile.
+Harry, who was the best friend I had in the world, tried to put in a
+good word for me--this was before I and your mother were engaged--and
+Annie, coming in and finding them, got it all crooked. Instead of
+waiting until Harry could explain, she flared up, and off he went. Her
+hair turned white in a week when she found out how she had misjudged
+him, but it was too late then--Harry wouldn't come back, and he never
+will. When he told you, Mark, last year in Rio that he was coming home
+Christmas I knew he'd change his mind just as soon as you left him, and
+he did. Queer boy, Harry. Once he gets an idea in his head it sticks
+there. He was that way when he was a boy. He'll never come back as long
+as Annie lives, and that means never."
+
+He stopped a moment, spread his fingers to the blazing logs, and
+then, with a smile on his face, said: "If ever I catch you two young
+turtledoves making such fools of yourselves, I'll turn you both
+outdoors," and again his hearty laugh rang through the cheery room.
+
+The girl instinctively leaned closer to her lover. She had heard some
+part of the story before--in fact, both of them had, but never in its
+entirety. Her heart went out to the Little Gray Lady all the more.
+
+Mark now spoke up. He, too, had had an hour of his own with the Little
+Gray Lady, and the obligation still remained unsettled.
+
+"Well, if she won't come up here and have Christmas with us," he cried,
+"why can't we go down there and have Christmas with her? Let's surprise
+her, Kate; let's clean out all those dead people. I know she sits in the
+dark and imagines they all come back, for I've seen her that way many a
+time when I drop in on her in the late afternoon. Let's show her they're
+alive."
+
+Kate started up and caught Mark's arm. "Oh, Mark! I have it!" she
+whispered, "and we will--yes--that will be the very thing," and so with
+more mumblings and mutterings, not one word of which could her father
+hear, the two raced up-stairs to the top of the house and the garret.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+Two hours later a group of young people led by Mark Dabney trooped out
+of Kate's gate and turned down the Little Gray Lady's street. Most of
+them wore long cloaks and were muffled in thick veils.
+
+They were talking in low tones, glancing from side to side, as if
+fearing to be seen. The moon had gone under a cloud, but the light of
+the stars, aided by an isolated street lamp, showed them the way. So
+careful were they to conceal their identity that the whole party--there
+were six in all--would dart into an open gate, crouching behind the
+snow-laden hedge to avoid even a single passer-by. Only once were they
+in any danger, and that was when a sleigh gliding by stopped in front of
+them, the driver calling out in a voice which sounded twice as loud
+in the white stillness: "Where's Mr. Dabney's new house?" (evidently a
+stranger, for the town pump was not better known). No one else stopped
+them until they reached the Little Gray Lady's porch.
+
+Kate crept up first, followed by Mark, and peered in. So far as she
+could see everything was just as she had left it.
+
+"The candle is still burning, Mark, and she's put more wood on the fire.
+But I can't find her. Oh, yes--there she is--in her big chair--you
+can just see the top of her head and her hand. Hush! don't one of you
+breathe. Now, listen, girls! Mark and I will tiptoe in first--the front
+door is never fastened--and if she is asleep--and I think she is--we
+will all crouch down behind her until she wakes up."
+
+"And another thing," whispered Mark from behind his hand--"everybody
+must drop their coats and things in the hall, so we can surprise her all
+at once."
+
+The strange procession tiptoed in and arranged itself behind the Little
+Gray Lady's chair. Kate was dressed in her mother's wedding-gown,
+flaring poke bonnet, and long, faded gloves clear to her shoulder;
+Mark had on a blue coat with brass buttons, a buff waistcoat, and black
+stock, the two points of the high collar pinching his ruddy cheeks--the
+same dress his father and Uncle Harry had worn, and all the young bloods
+of their day, for that matter. The others were in their grandmother's
+or grandfather's short and long clothes, Tom Fields sporting a
+tight-sleeved, high-collared coat, silk-embroidered waistcoat, and
+pumps.
+
+Kate crept up behind her chair, but Mark moved to the fireplace and
+rested his elbow on the mantel, so that he would be in full view when
+the Little Gray Lady awoke.
+
+At last her eyes opened, but she made no outcry, nor did she move,
+except to lift her head as does a fawn startled by some sudden light,
+her wondering eyes drinking in the apparition. Mark, hardly breathing,
+stood like a statue, but Kate, bending closer, heard her catch her
+breath with a long, indrawn sigh, and next the half-audible words:
+"No--it isn't so--How foolish I am--" Then there came softly:
+"Harry"--and again in almost a whisper--as if hope had died in her
+heart--"Harry--"
+
+Kate, half frightened, sprang forward and flung her arms around the
+Little Gray Lady.
+
+"Why, don't you know him? It's Mark, Cousin Annie, and here's Tom
+and Nanny Fields, and everybody, and we're going to light all the
+candles--every one of them, and make an awful big fire--and have a real,
+real Christmas."
+
+The Little Gray Lady was awake now.
+
+"Oh! you scared me so!" she cried, rising to her feet, rubbing her eyes.
+"You foolish Children! I must have been asleep--yes, I know I was!" She
+greeted them all, talking and entering into their fun, the spirit of
+hospitality now hers, saying over and over again how glad she was they
+came, kissing one and another; telling them how happy they made her;
+how since they had been kind enough to come, she would let them have a
+_real_ Christmas--"Only," she added quickly, "it will have to be by the
+light of one candle; but that won't make any difference, because you can
+pile on just as much wood as you choose. Yes," she continued, her voice
+rising in her effort to meet them on their own joyous plane--"pile
+on all the kindling, too, Mark; and Kate, dear, please run and tell
+Margaret to bring in every bit of cake she has in the pantry. Oh, how
+like your mother you are, Kate! I remember that very dress. And you,
+Mark! Why, you've got on the same coat I saw your father wear at the
+Governor's ball. And you, too, Tom. Oh, what a good time we will all
+have!"
+
+Soon the lid of the old piano was raised, a spinet, really, and one of
+the girls began running her fingers over the keys; and later on it was
+agreed that the first dance was to be the Virginia reel, with all the
+hospitable chairs and the fire screen and the gouty old sofa rolled back
+against the wall.
+
+This all arranged, Mark took his place with the Little Gray Lady for a
+partner. The music struck up a lively tune and as quickly ceased as the
+sound of bells rang through the night air. In the hush that followed a
+sleigh was heard at the gate.
+
+Kate sprang up and clapped her hands.
+
+"Oh, they are just in time! There come the rest of them, Cousin Annie.
+Now we are going to have a great party! Let's be dancing when they come
+in; keep on playing!"
+
+At this instant the door opened and Margaret put in her head.
+"Somebody," she said, with a low bow, "wants to see Mr. Mark on
+business."
+
+Mark, looking like a gallant of the old school, excused himself with a
+great flourish to the Little Gray Lady and strode out. In the hall, with
+his back to the light, stood a broad-shouldered man muffled to the chin
+in a fur overcoat. The boy was about to apologize for his costume and
+then ask the man's errand, when the stranger turned quickly and gripped
+his wrist.
+
+"Hush--not a word! Where is she?" he cried.
+
+With a low whistle of surprise Mark pushed open the door. The stranger
+stepped in.
+
+The Little Gray Lady raised her head.
+
+"And who can this new guest be?" she asked--"and in what a queer
+costume, too!"
+
+The man drew himself up to his full height and threw wide his coat: "And
+you don't know me, Annie?"
+
+She did not take her eyes from his face, nor did she move except to turn
+her head appealingly to the room as if she feared they were playing her
+another trick.
+
+He had reached her side and stood looking down at her. Again came the
+voice--a strong, clear voice, with a note of infinite tenderness through
+it:
+
+"How white your hair is, Annie; and your hand is so thin! Have I changed
+like this?"
+
+She leaned forward, scanning him eagerly.
+
+There was a little cry, then all her soul went out in the one word:
+
+"Harry!"
+
+She was inside the big coat now, his strong arms around her, her head
+hidden on his breast, only the tips of her toes on the floor.
+
+When he had kissed her again and again--and he did and before
+everybody--he crossed the room, picked up the ghostly candle, and
+smothered its flame.
+
+"I saw it from the road," he laughed softly, "that's why I couldn't
+wait. But you'll never have to light it again, my darling!"
+
+I saw them both a few years later. Everything in the way of fading and
+wrinkling had stopped so far as the Little Gray Lady was concerned. If
+there were any lines left in her forehead and around the corners of her
+eyes, I could not find them. Joy had planted a crop of dimples instead,
+and they had spread out, smoothing the care lines. Margaret even claimed
+that her hair was turning brown gold once more, but then Margaret was
+always her loyal slave, and believed everything her mistress wished.
+
+And now, if you don't mind, dear reader, we will put everything back and
+shut the Little Gray Lady's bureau drawer.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Little Gray Lady, by F. Hopkinson Smith
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