still in
authority； would crane her skinny neck to see who it was。
〃Oh； it's you； is it？〃 she said。 〃I thought we should be
seein' you。 My word； that's a bobby…dazzlin' posy you've
brought！〃
It was curious how Tilly preserved the spirit of Tom
Brangwen； who was dead； in the Marsh。 Ursula always connected
her with her grandfather。
This day the child had brought a tight little nosegay of
pinks； white ones； with a rim of pink ones。 She was very proud
of it； and very shy because of her pride。
〃Your gran'mother's in her bed。 Wipe your shoes well if
you're goin' up； and don't go burstin' in on her like a
skyrocket。 My word； but that's a fine posy！ Did you do it all by
yourself； an' all？〃
Tilly stealthily ushered her into the bedroom。 The child
entered with a strange； dragging hesitation characteristic of
her when she was moved。 Her grandmother was sitting up in bed；
wearing a little grey woollen jacket。
The child hesitated in silence near the bed； clutching the
nosegay in front of her。 Her childish eyes were shining。 The
grandmother's grey eyes shone with a similar light。
〃How pretty！〃 she said。 〃How pretty you have made them！ What
a darling little bunch。〃
Ursula； glowing； thrust them into her grandmother's hand；
saying； 〃I made them you。〃
〃That is how the peasants tied them at home；〃 said the
grandmother； pushing the pinks with her fingers； and smelling
them。 〃Just such tight little bunches！ And they make wreaths for
their hair……they weave the stalks。 Then they go round with
wreaths in their hair； and wearing their best aprons。〃
Ursula immediately imagined hers