‘Good-bye for the present, mother,’ he said, giving his hand ‘I hope you’ll find everything just as you wish it.’ ‘If I don’t, I shan’t complain,’ was the cold reply. The old woman had clad herself, since her retreat, in the garments of former days; and the truth must be told that they did not add to the dignity of her appearance. Probably no costume devisable could surpass in ignoble ugliness the attire of an English working-class widow when she appears in the streets. The proximity of Alice, always becomingly clad, drew attention to the poor mother’s plebeian guise. Richard, watching her enter the cab, felt for the first time a distinct shame. His feelings might have done him more credit but for the repulse he had suffered. ‘Arry contented himself with standing at the front-room window, his hands in his pockets. Later in the same day Daniel Dabbs, who had by chance been following the British workman’s practice and devoting Monday to recreation, entered an omnibus in which Mrs. Clay was riding. She had a heavy bundle on her lap, shopwork which she was taking home. Daniel had already received Mutimer’s reply, and was nursing a fit of anger. He seated himself by Kate’s side, and conversed with her. ‘Heard anything from _him_ lately?’ he asked, with a motion of the head which rendered mention of names unnecessary. ‘Not we,’ Kate replied bitterly, her eyes fixing themselves in scorn. ‘No loss,’ remarked Daniel, with an expression of disgust. ‘He’ll hear from _me_ some day,’ said the woman, ‘and in a way as he won’t like.’ The noise of the vehicle did not favour conversation. Daniel waited till Kate got out, then he too descended, and walked along by her side. He did not offer to relieve her of the bundle in primitive societies woman is naturally the burden-bearer. ‘I wouldn’t a’ thought it o’ Dick,’ he said, his head thrust forward, and his eyes turning doggedly from side to side. They say as how too much money ain’t good for a man, but it’s changed _him_ past all knowin’.’ ‘He always had a good deal too much to say for himself,’ remarked Mrs. Clay, speaking with difficulty through her quickened breath, the bundle almost more than she could manage. ‘I wish just now as he’d say a bit more,’ said Daniel. ‘Now, see, here’s a letter I’ve just got from him. I wrote to him last night to let him know of things as was goin’ round at the lecture. There’s one or two of our men, you know, think he’d ought to be made to smart a bit for the way he’s treated Emma, and last night they up an’ spoke--you should just a’ ‘eard them. Then someone set it goin’ as the fault wasn’t Dick’s at all. See what I mean? I don’t know who started that. I can’t think as he’d try to blacken a girl’s name just to excuse himself; that’s goin’ a bit too far.’ Mrs. Clay came to a standstill. ‘He’s been saying things of Emma?’ she cried. ‘Is that what you mean?’