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Cholmondeley, Mary, 1859-1925

"Red Pottage"

Now for the first time he
prayed that he might be forgiven.
Repentance took his hands and locked them together.
"God helping me," he said, "I will lead a new life."


CHAPTER XXXIX
"Les sots sont plus a craindre que les mechants."

Mr. Gresley had often remarked to persons in affliction that when things
are at their worst they generally take a turn for the better. This
profound truth was proving itself equal to the occasion at Warpington
Vicarage.
Mrs. Gresley was well again, after a fortnight at the seaside with
Regie. The sea air had blown back a faint color into Regie's cheeks. The
new baby's vaccination was ceasing to cast a vocal gloom over the
thin-walled house. The old baby's whole attention was mercifully
diverted from his wrongs to the investigation of that connection between
a chair and himself, which he perceived the other children could assume
at pleasure. He stood for hours looking at his own little chair,
solemnly seating himself at long intervals where no chair was. But his
mind was working, and work, as we know, is the panacea for mental
anguish.
Mr. Gresley had recovered that buoyancy of spirits which was the theme
of Mrs. Gresley's increasing admiration.
On this particular evening, when his wife had asked him if the beef were
tender, he had replied, as he always did if in a humorous vein:
"Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.


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