He continued his ditty, in spite of the angry glances of his leader. The distinction lay chiefly in the right to pat their heads. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. ” “My feeling in the matter,” Sir John said, “is as I have stated.
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