oldest. Hyacinthus Ware was the sole representative of the old family
known to be living. Presently the group on the Lynn door-step began to
talk about him, leading up to the subject from the fragrance of the
lilies.

"Them lilies is so sweet they are sickish," said the old grandmother.

"Yes, they be dreadful sickish," said Mrs. Lynn. Mrs. Wilford Biggs and
Mr. Mangam, as usual, said nothing.

"Hyacinthus is home, I see," said Mrs. Lynn.

"Yes, I see him on the street t'other day," said the old woman, in her
thick dialect. She sat straighter than ever as she gazed across at the
garden of lilies and the great Ware house, and the cold step-stone
seemed to pierce her old spinal column like a rod of steel; but she
never flinched.

Mrs. Wilford Biggs and Mr. John Mangam said nothing.

"He is the handsomest man I ever saw," said Sarah Lynn, unexpectedly, in
an odd, shamed, almost awed voice, as if she were speaking of a
divinity.

Then for the first time Mr. John Mangam gave evidence of life. He did
not speak, but he made an inarticulate noise between a grunt and a
sniff.

"Well, if you call that man good-lookin'," said Mrs. Lynn, "you don't
see the way I do, that's all." She looked straight at Mr. John Mangam as