Ada wished they would stop crying. Their crying made her feel guilty. As though she were the cause of their unhappiness. Was she softening toward Howard? She knew he was there before she left her body. Even then, in her semi-coma, she had resented his presence. How did he know? How did she sense his presence and know him? This tall, good looking man with more grey than black in his hair did not resemble the boy she had tried to forget. This well groomed man with the expensive clothes and the charm of Ben, his father, but without the marks of dissipation. The old bitterness flared. Why had Howard come, after a lifetime of neglect? He'd soon know she left nothing. Anyhow, she would have left _him_ nothing. She wished there were something for Ellie and her boys--and Ted. If just a few keepsakes. But there was nothing--nothing. Ada looked at the body under the sheet. It was not as old as some, in years. Hard work rather than age had broken it down so that now it was bent and wrinkled. Why, she could see clear through it! There was the deformed hip bone! The one that had not been properly set after Ben threw her down the stairs in one of his drunken rages. She was quite young when that happened and all the rest of her life she walked with a limp. "Never again, Ada," Ben sobbed. "Never again will I take a drink." She knew then that he was too weak-willed to keep the promise. She also knew that she would always love him. The babies had come too close. Howard. Several that she could not carry to the full. Two still-born. Then Ellie. The twins, both dying after a few weeks of sickly life. Doctor bills. Short rations. Ben, so abusive when out of work and drinking. Ben, so sweet when working and sober. Ben, who died in a charity ward many years ago. It was before Ben died that Howard ran away from home. "It's your fault, Ada," Ben accused when he sobered. "You took the money he earned with his paper route." "My fault!" Ada screamed. "I didn't take all his money. It was little enough. I only took it when there was nothing in the house to eat." "It's your fault. It's your fault," Ben repeated as though reciting a lesson to himself. He raised bleary eyes to her stormy ones. "You didn't tell him and he thought of it as stealing." "He'll come back, Mother," said Ellie soothingly. "He better _not_ come back," said Ada, fiercely. "Running away from home! All this added disgrace! I had enough to bear before." Howard never came back and Ada remembered how, in her stubborn bitterness, she would not allow the mention of his name. Now she studied the knees under the sheet. Yes, the swollen joints were prominent. Scrubbing floors had done that to the knees that were once round and dimpled. She thought it was the only work for her after Ben died. She was not used to anything but housework.