A Farmer’s Life 
whole family of us would have to assemble there 
to tea—even to supper—all of it made ready by 
her own hands; and we played cards in the 
intervals. A party of this kind was going on 
when the news of Queen Victoria’s death was 
brought in. It quenched our gaiety, stopped our 
whist. Soon we all went home. Oftener she 
had visitors—friends from Brixton spending a 
day or two with her, or relatives from Farnborough 
calling for an hour ; and in these latter cases she 
loved to talk of old times and to tell of her child- 
hood. 
A very dear caller was her own brother John. 
He used to look me up in my office, then hobble 
across the street (corns crippled him; he was 
ruptured too) to see “ Aunt Ann.” Once when 
he came in—it was about half-past twelve—I 
invited him to walk home with me presently for 
dinner. 
“T’ve just arranged to have dinner with your 
aunt Ann,” he said. 
“Go and see if you can’t come with me instead. 
I'll be over myself in about ten minutes.” 
In ten minutes I crossed the street and found 
him sitting by the fire. The table was laid for 
two. Aunt Ann entered the room, and, for her 
to hear, I repeated my invitation to her brother. 
“No,” he said; “thank you. I'll stay here 
now, and come out to you for tea.” 
‘““But would you sooner go out now?” Ann 
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