James T. Boulton

body, they tiptoed out of the house. None of them spoke till
they were far from the wakeful children.

When Elizabeth came down she found her mother alone on
the parlour floor, with the face of her son between her hands,
the tears dropping on him.

"We must lay him out," she whispered softly. She went
and put on the kettle, then returned and kneeling at the feet,
began to unfasten the knotted leather laces. The room was
very dim with only one candle, and she had to bend her face
almost to the floor. At last she got off the heavy boots and took
them away. Then she pulled off his stockings, with dirty tape
garters: black and red "mingled" stockings, like those of the
children's hedgehog. She unfastened the thick leather belt from
round his waist.

"We must get his trousers off," she whispered to the little
old woman, and together, with difficulty, they did so.

When they rose and looked at him lying naked in the beauty
of death, the women experienced suddenly the same feeling;
that of motherhood, mixed with some primeval awe. But the
pitiful mother-feeling prevailed. Elizabeth knelt down and
put her arms round him, and laid her cheek on his breast. His
mother had his face between her hands again, and was murmuring
and sobbing. Elizabeth touched him and kissed him with her
cheek and her lips. Then suddenly she felt jealous that the
old woman had his face.

She rose, and went into the kitchen, where she poured some
warm water into a bowl, and brought soap and flannel and a
towel.

"I must wash him," she said decisively. Then the old
mother rose stiffly, and watched Elizabeth as she gently washed
his face, tenderly, as if he were a child, brushing the big blonde
moustache from his mouth with the flannel. Then the old
woman, jealous, said:

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