The Last and the First by Ivy Compton-Burnett

way.”
    â€œTime, interest, effort,” said Miss Murdoch, looking before her. “They are in our gift. And our hope and thought, our sufferance, if need be. She must gain something I think. Do you not think with me?”
    â€œWell, I hope she must. If so we should see it before long. This is my son, Amy’s uncle. You know she has no parents.”
    â€œDo I know? Should I have known? Well, it must sometimes be. We take what comes of it. Something must come. We accept it when it is there.”
    â€œWhat would you say it is in Amy’s case? It seems that I should know.”
    â€œDoes it? Or would you look aside? Let others deal with the innocent need, the lack of the natural basis, the want in a young life. It may give its strength. It has been known to give it. I have seen something of difference, a vein of independent thought. Have you seen it?”
    â€œI can’t imagine it in Amy’s case,” said Jocasta, as ifthis would prevent it, as it was probable that it would. “She and her brother and sister are the children of the son I lost. I am a widow with a life behind me. I give them what I can.”
    â€œWhat you have left. What you have to give. You give it and can give no more.” Miss Murdoch lifted a hand and moved with a muted step towards sounds that heralded the concert. “And it does what it can. It is theirs as it was yours. It is given.”
    â€œI fear to take a place from someone with a claim to it,” said Hamilton, looking round. “An unbidden guest should remain within his rights.”
    â€œThey are glad for the seats to be filled. Why should they want them empty?” said Jocasta, taking the one that suited her, and motioning him to her side. “The state of things is clear.”
    â€œThen I may feel I am accommodating as well as accommodated,” said her son, in an audible tone, looking about him.
    â€œYes,” said Miss Murdoch, with an open smile. “It is clear, and we do not try to disguise it. We let the truth appear. We let it justify itself. We are not afraid of truth.”
    Jocasta glanced about her, as if she did not underestimate this courage, and settled down to show the deportment expected. Her son found the quality of the concert as Amy had foretold, and failed to respect its claims.
    â€œMiss Murdoch’s talk might be designed to obscure her meaning rather than convey it.”
    â€œIt might be and is. But leave it for the moment. She notices more than appears.”
    â€œIs that Miss Heriot at the side? The tall, dark, upright woman standing by herself? It seems it must be.”
    â€œI think it is. But that is enough. The interval will come.”
    It came, and Jocasta rose and moved to Hermia, with no thought of disguising the purpose of her presence.
    â€œI think you are Miss Murdoch’s partner? I am glad to meet you. I hope you can give me a moment?”
    â€œAs many moments as you please. They are all my own. Too many to have any meaning. A partner is what I am supposed to be. I hardly know what I am. Miss Murdoch is not afraid of the truth. I will not be either.”
    â€œIt is not as you thought it would be? Perhaps you put your hopes too high. It took strong reasons on both sides to lead to a scheme like this.”
    â€œThere was the need of the school for material help. And my father met it. But the reason for me was my own. I was to put the whole thing on another basis, to save its future. I could do it. I see how it could be done. But my help is not wanted or welcome. I am to make no change. And there can’t be progress without it.”
    â€œIt must come to all things in the end. Amy told us you were trying to make it.”
    â€œAmy? Your daughter, your grand-daughter? Ought I to know her? Which form is she in?”
    â€œI am not sure,” said Jocasta, finding she shared the vagueness concerning Amy that seemed to mark those in charge of her. “The