Chapter 8

           Thinkingnoharm,forthefamilywouldnotcome,neveragain,somesaid,andthehousewouldbesoldatMichaelmasperhaps,Mrs.McNabstoopedandpickedabunchofflowerstotakehomewithher.Shelaidthemonthetablewhileshedusted.Shewasfondofflowers.Itwasapitytoletthemwaste.Supposethehouseweresold(shestoodarmsakimboinfrontofthelooking-glass)itwouldwantseeingto—itwould.Thereithadstoodalltheseyearswithoutasoulinit.Thebooksandthingsweremouldy,for,whatwiththewarandhelpbeinghardtoget,thehousehadnotbeencleanedasshecouldhavewished.Itwasbeyondoneperson’sstrengthtogetitstraightnow.Shewastooold.Herlegspainedher.Allthosebooksneededtobelaidoutonthegrassinthesun;therewasplasterfalleninthehall;therain-pipehadblockedoverthestudywindowandletthewaterin;thecarpetwasruinedquite.Butpeopleshouldcomethemselves;theyshouldhavesentsomebodydowntosee.Fortherewereclothesinthecupboards;theyhadleftclothesinallthebedrooms.Whatwasshetodowiththem?Theyhadthemothinthem—Mrs.Ramsay’sthings.Poorlady!ShewouldneverwantTHEMagain.Shewasdead,theysaid;yearsago,inLondon.Therewastheoldgreycloaksheworegardening(Mrs.McNabfingeredit).Shecouldseeher,asshecameupthedrivewiththewashing,stoopingoverherflowers(thegardenwasapitifulsightnow,allruntoriot,andrabbitsscuttlingatyououtofthebeds)—shecouldseeherwithoneofthechildrenbyherinthatgreycloak.