Ah thy people, thy children, thy chosen, Marked cross from the womb and perverse! They have found out the secret to cozen The gods that constrain us and curse; They alone, they are wise, and none Other; Give me place, even me, in their train, O my sister, my spouse, and my mOther, Our Lady of Pain. “I suppose he’ll get drunk to celebrate it,” she was saying, energetically drying the last cup with a corner of the damp cloth. “And I suppose she feels as though it’s something to be very glad and proud about.” “Well, Nellie,” answered the woman who had been rinsing the breakfast things, ignoring the first supposition. “One doesn’t want them to come, but when they do come one can’t help feeling glad.” “Glad!” said Nellie, scornfully.