He nodded. He hoped she wasn't going to try anything like that again.
She saw anxiety in his eyes and said: "Don't worry. I shan't do that again. It might be boy and wolf. They mightn't come running when I'd really need them. But they fuss, Finch, because I have Patton out. I like to see my lawyer. I keep thinking up little bequests for old friends—Miss Pink—the Lacey girls—even old Hickson and other folk in the village." A shrewd gleam came into her eyes. "I suppose you're not worrying about who I'm going to leave my money to, eh?"
"God, no!"
"Don't curse! Too much God and hell and bloody about this house. I won't have it."
"All right, Gran."
"I'm going to give you a present," she said.
"Oh, no, Gran, please don't!" he exclaimed, alarmed.
"Why not, I'd like to know?"
"They'd all say I'd been sucking up to you."
"Let me hear them! Send anyone that says that to me."
"Well, please let it be something small that I can hide."
"Hide my present! I won't have it! Stick it up! Put it in full view! Invite the family to come and look at it! If anyone says you're sucking up send him to me. I'll take the crimp out of him!"
"Very well, Gran," agreed Finch, resignedly.
Her old eyes roved about the room. "I'll tell you what I'm going to give you. I'm going to give you that porcelain figure of Kuan Yin—Chinese goddess. Very good. Good for you to have. She's not afraid of life. Lets it pass over her. You're no fighter. You're musical. Better let it pass over you. But don't let it frighten you. . . . Fetch her over here, and mind you don't drop her!"
He had seen the porcelain figure all his life, standing on the mantelpiece, amid a strange medley of bowls, vases, and boxes—Eastern and English, ancient and Victorian. It was so crowded on the mantelpiece that he felt reasonably hopeful that the little goddess would not
