39Mrs Mottram rang the bell of Pennycott. At the Rectory she would have opened the door and yodelled, but the Miss Doncasters were sticklers for what they called the forms of civilized society, and what was the good of putting their backs up? It was so easy, and you did it so often without meaning to, that you couldn't even get a kick out of it. Besides, poor old things, what a life! Year after year, with nothing happening to you--just withering up and going sour. Her heart, which was as soft as butter, really pitied them, and however rude and disapproving they were, she always turned up again, with an egg, or a cabbage-leaf full of raspberries, or one of the bright unsuitable magazines showered upon her by her friends in the Air Force. She had one tucked under her arm now with a colour-pr
