Mrs. Fettley stretched an arm across the table, and made to finger Mrs. Ashcroft’s sleeve at the wrist, but the other moved it out of reach. “So I went on to the churchyard with my flowers, an’ I remembered my ’usband’s warnin’ that night he spoke. ’E _was_ death-wise, an’ it _’ad_ ’appened as ’e said. But as I was settin’ down de jam-pot on the grave-mound, it come over me there was one thing I _could_ do for ’Arry. Doctor or no Doctor, I thought I’d make a trial of it. So I did. Nex’ mornin’, a bill came down from our Lunnon green-grocer. Mrs. Marshall, she’d lef’ me petty cash for suchlike--o’ course--but I tole Bess ’twas for me to come an’ open the ’ouse. So I went up, afternoon train.” “An’--but I know you ’adn’t--’adn’t you no fear?” “What for? There was nothin’ front o’ me but my own shame an’ God’s croolty. I couldn’t ever get ’Arry--’ow _could_ I? I knowed it must go on burnin’ till it burned me out.” “Aie!” said Mrs. Fettley, reaching for the wrist again, and this time Mrs. Ashcroft permitted it. “Yit ’twas a comfort to know I could try _this_ for ’im. So I went an’ I paid the green-grocer’s bill, an’ put ’is receipt in me hand-bag, an’ then I stepped round to Mrs. Ellis--our char--an’ got the ’ouse-keys an’ opened the ’ouse. First, I made me bed to come back to (God’s Own Name! Me bed to lie upon!). Nex’ I made me a cup o’ tea an’ sat down in the kitchen thinkin’, till ’long towards dusk. Terrible close, ’twas. Then I dressed me an’ went out with the receipt in me ’and-bag, feignin’ to study it for an address, like. Fourteen, Wadloes Road, was the place--a liddle basement-kitchen ’ouse, in a row of twenty-thirty such, an’ tiddy strips o’ walled garden in front--the paint off the front doors, an’ na’un done to na’un since ever so long. There wasn’t ’ardly no one in the streets ’cept the cats. _’Twas_ ’ot, too! I turned into the gate bold as brass; up de steps I went an’ I ringed the front-door bell. She pealed loud, like it do in an empty house. When she’d all ceased, I ’eard a cheer, like, pushed back on de floor o’ the kitchen. Then I ’eard feet on de kitchen-stairs, like it might ha’ been a heavy woman in slippers. They come up to de stairhead, acrost the hall--I ’eard the bare boards creak under ’em--an’ at de front door dey stopped. I stooped me to the letter-box slit, an’ I says: ‘Let me take everythin’ bad that’s in store for my man, ’Arry Mockler, for love’s sake.’ Then, whatever it was t’other side de door let its breath out, like, as if it ’ad been holdin’ it for to ’ear better.” “Nothin’ was _said_ to ye?” Mrs. Fettley demanded. “Na’un. She just breathed out--a sort of _A-ah_, like. Then the steps went back an’ down-stairs to the kitchen--all draggy--an’ I heard the cheer drawed up again.” “An’ you abode on de doorstep, throughout all, Gra’?” Mrs. Ashcroft nodded.