A Farmer’s Life 
less. It was John (“ Jacky,” she always called 
him) who came to the rescue. I think his own 
wife was dead, and a daughter was keeping house 
for him. But at cost of some inconvenience, and 
perhaps some anxiety (for Ann was now old 
enough yet active enough to be interfering), John 
found room for her in his farm-house at Frimley. 
There she dwelt—offering more help, I fancy, 
than was always desired—until a chance occurred, 
and she took it, to rent a small cottage for herself 
in Farnham. 
5 
Tue Farnham cottage was just across the street 
from the workroom of her apprenticeship days— 
my own office by this time; but the attra¢tion to 
Ann was probably in being within walking dis- 
tance—just over a mile, in fact—from this place 
where my sisters lived with me. We had always 
been as children to her; and now, at last, after a 
quarter of a century or so, she was near us again. 
Besides, she saw me almost daily. Usually I 
called on her o’ mornings, and sat smoking—she 
loved me to make myself at home—in her little 
kitchen, watching the preparations for her own 
and her lodger’s dinner. Sometimes I strolled 
out with her into her little back garden, and had 
her plants pointed out to me. Always if possible 
I had tea with her, she being careful to give me the 
warmest side of the fire. In course of time, too, 
190 
