The next stage of the visit began as Mrs. Broadwith brought in a cup of tea and the rest of the animals were let out of the kitchen. It was the usual scenario for the many cups of tea I had drunk with Miss Stubbs under the little card which dangled above her bed.

"How are you today?" I asked.

"Oh! much better," she replied and immediately changed the subject.

Mostly she liked to talk about her pets and the ones she had known right back to her childhood. She spoke a lot too, about the days her family was alive. She loved to describe the escapades of her three brothers and today she showed me a photograph which Mrs. Broadwith had found.

"Oh, they were young rips!" she exclaimed. She laughed and for a moment her face was radiant, by her memories.

The things I had heard in the village came back to me: about the prosperous father and his family who lived in the big house now. Then the heartbrokenness crashed and the sudden change in circumstances. When the old father died, he was almost penniless, one old man said. "There is not much brass there now."

Probably just enough brass to keep Miss Stubbs and her animals alive and pay Mrs. Broadwith. And, sitting there, I felt as I had often - a bit ashamed of the responsibility I had. The one thing which brought some light into the life of the brave old woman was the devotion of this shaggy bunch whose eyes were never far from her face.