In truth, they all “kind of liked” her…even mother, who, nevertheless, was compelled by Pat to stay in bed most of the time that she might not be talked to death. Mrs. Merridew was so entirely good-natured and her smile was charming. The floors might creak as she walked over them but her spirit was feather-light. She might have a liking for snacks of bread and butter with an inch of brown sugar spread on top of it but there wasn’t a scrap of malice in her heart. Judy might speculate pessimistically on what would happen if she fell downstairs but she adored McGinty and was hail-fellow-well-met with all the cats. Even Gentleman Tom succumbed to her spell and waved his thin, stiff tail when she tickled him behind the ears. Judy, who had implicit confidence in Gentleman Tom’s insight into human nature, admitted that maybe Tom Gardiner wasn’t quite the fool she had been thinking him. For Mrs. Merridew, in spite of her avoirdupois, was “rale cliver round the house.” She insisted on helping with the chores and washed dishes and polished silver and swept floors with astonishing deftness, talking ceaselessly and effortlessly all the time. In the evenings she went driving with Uncle Tom or sat with him in the moonlight garden. Nobody could tell what Uncle Tom was thinking, not even Pat. But the aunts had subsided into the calm of despair. They had not called on Mrs. Merridew…they would not countenance her in any way…but it was their opinion that she had Tom hypnotized.

Pat was sitting on a log in the silver bush one evening…her own dear, dim silver bush, full of moon-patterned shadows…having crept away to be by herself for a little while. Mrs. Merridew was in the kitchen eating doughnuts, telling Judy how travel broadened the mind, and encouraging her to take her trip to Ireland. Judy’s kitchen was certainly not what it used to be just now and Pat was secretly relieved to feel that Mrs. Merridew’s visit was drawing to a close. Even if she came back to North Glen it would be to Swallowfield, not to Silver Bush.

Someone came along the path and sat down beside her with a heavy sigh. Uncle Tom! Somehow Pat understood what was in his heart without words…that “all that was left of his bright, bright dream” was dust and ashes. Poor mistaken Uncle Tom, who had imagined that the old magic could be recaptured.

“She’s expecting me to propose to her again, Patsy,” he said, after a long silence.

“Must you?” asked Pat.

“As a man of honor I must…and that tonight,” said Uncle Tom solemnly…and said no more.

Pat decided that silence was golden. After a time they got up and went back to the house. As they emerged from the bush the shadow of a fat woman was silhouetted on the kitchen blind.