She had a long fair face, and white hair surmounted by a battered black bonnet, a mouth set rather on one side, and a more observant and refined air than most of her neighbours.

She sighed while she talked, and spoke in a delicate quaver.
"D'ye know, miss," said Mrs.Jellison, pointing to Mrs.Patton, "as she kep' school when she was young ?" "Did you, Mrs.Patton ?" asked Marcella in her tone of sympathetic interest.

"The school wasn't very big then, I suppose ?" "About forty, miss," said Mrs.Patton, with a sigh.

"There was eighteen the Rector paid for, and eighteen Mr.Boyce paid for, and the rest paid for themselves." Her voice dropped gently, and she sighed again like one weighted with an eternal fatigue.
"And what did you teach them ?" "Well, I taught them the plaitin', miss, and as much readin' and writin' as I knew myself.

It wasn't as high as it is now, you see, miss," and a delicate flush dawned on the old cheek as Mrs.Patton threw a glance round her companions as though appealing to them not to tell stories of her.
But Mrs.Jellison was implacable.