ABSTRACT
At Mrs. Wilson's, my sister's old nurse (now wife of a tailor), I met an old carpenter to pay him some money. He had not seen me since I was a wild child at Finchley, leaping ditches and climbing trees, and he seemed a little appalled at my dignified, quiet, half-sad manner. He brought his account wonderfully well written. After a minute or two, I asked him about his wife and children, and all the old Finchley people.
