Explore "On the Brink of a Chasm" by L.T. Meade on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
About a fortnight after the Pelhams had taken up their residence at Pelham Towers a little old woman might have been seen making her way slowly up the avenue. From the lodge gates to the mansion was a distance of nearly two miles. The little woman as she walked kept muttering to herself.
"Craft shall meet craft," she was saying. "Yes, if Clary had confided in me I wouldn't ha' done nothing secret or unbeknown, but as it is, I'll just find out for myself what I can. The child's as good a little lad as ever walked the earth. He's all the same to me as if he were bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh. There's nothing I wouldn't do for him. But a dearie me! I ain't a-going to be gulled not for nobody, and by Clary least of all. Haven't I nursed her and dangled her in my arms and lay awake with her when she was teething, and is she going to make a fool of her old mother now? Not a bit of it.