Mary had not had her cup of tea yet, although she had made one for her father.

But she had forgotten all about that -- forgotten, indeed, that she had taken no food, except two hard biscuits, since her early breakfast.

It seemed such a long time before the man came back.

His comrade was still busy out at the rear of the house, rubbing, pounding, and punching at the mud-stained clothes to get them clean, and as he worked he whistled softly over and over again two or three bars of "The Maple Leaf for Ever".

For years afterwards Mary never heard the song without recalling that afternoon, with its keen anxiety, the glorious sunshine, and the steamy, soapy atmosphere of the little kitchen.
From front door to back door she paced, always treading softly through fear of disturbing the sleeper in the room beyond; then paced from back door to front door again, and paused to wait for the messenger whose coming was so delayed.