He warmed his hands at the fire, and then rubbed them over the
front of his calves, leaning forward.
'So ye've come back?' said Priscilla.
'Aye!' concurred Toby.
There was a pause.
'Cold weather we're having,' he muttered.
'It's seasonable,' Priscilla pointed out.
Her glance rested on a sprig of holly that was tied under the gas-
chandelier, unique relic of Christmas in the apartment.
Another pause. It would be hazardous to guess what their feelings
were; perhaps their feelings were scarcely anything at all.
'And what be the news?' Toby inquired, with what passes in the
Five Towns for geniality.
'News?' she repeated, as if not immediately grasping the
significance of the question. 'I don't know as there's any news,
nothing partic'ler, that is.'
Hung on the wall near the chimney-piece was a photograph of a
girl. It was an excellent likeness to Priscilla, as she was in
Toby's pre-Trenton days. How young and fresh the creature looked;
so simple, so inexperienced! It startled Toby.
'I don't remember that,' he said.
'What?'
'That!' And he jerked his elbow towards the photograph.
'Oh! THAT! That's my daughter,' said Priscilla.
'Bless us!' said Toby in turn.
'I married Job Tansley,' Priscilla continued. 'He died four years
ago last Knype Wakes Monday.
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