\" Said John as he piled the papery remnants of their meal onto the tray. Conceiving himself called upon, as the intimate friend of the deceased, to pay this last tribute of respect to her memory, he appeared as one of the chief mourners. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. Now, Sir, will you please to follow me?" Mr. “Poor little Miniver! What can she be but what she is?.
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