So it was Queen’s in September for both and Pat thought she might like it if she could survive an absence from Silver Bush for two-thirds of the year. She had always had a sneaking sympathy for Lot’s wife. Was she really to be blamed so much for lingering to look back at her home? Pat’s only comfort was that Hilary would be at Queen’s too, and they would be coming home every weekend. “You wouldn’t think a house could be so nice as Silver Bush is in so many different ways, Judy. And the pieces of furniture in it don’t seem like furniture. They’re persons, Judy. That old chair that was Great-grandfather Nehemiah’s…when I sit in it it just puts its arms around me, Judy. I feel it. And all the chairs just want to be sat in.” “Sure and iverything in the house has been loved and took care av and used be so minny human beings, Patsy. It stands to rason they do be more than just furniture.” “I guess I’m hopelessly Victorian, Judy.
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