Wragge, restlessly shifting the positions of the circulars as a child
restlessly shifts the position of a new set of toys. "Here's light
reading, printed in pretty colors. Here's all the Things I'm going to
buy when I'm out shopping to-morrow. Lend us a pencil, please--you won't
be angry, will you? I do so want to mark 'em off." She looked up at
Magdalen, chuckled joyfully over her own altered circumstances, and
beat her great hands on the table in irrepressible delight. "No
cookery-book!" cried Mrs. Wragge. "No Buzzing in my head! no captain to
shave to-morrow! I'm all down at heel; my cap's on one side; and nobody
bawls at me. My heart alive, here _is_ a holiday and no mistake!"
Her hands began to drum on the table louder than ever, until Magdalen
quieted them by presenting her with a pencil. Mrs. Wragge instantly
recovered her dignity, squared her elbows on the table, and plunged into
imaginary shopping for the rest of the evening.
Magdalen returned to the window. She took a chair, seated herself
behind the curtain, and steadily fixed her eyes once more on the house
opposite.
The blinds were down over the windows of the first floor and the second.
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