I heard Aunt Margaret’s familiar “_some_ people,” with an accent on the “some.” It was in this indirect manner that she invariably produced her most disagreeable remarks, and it was very much in the air just now. Miss Izzy displayed an icy dignity by stiff elbows, an erect head, and an elaborate preoccupation with the business of the shop. She seemed all collar and cuffs and freezing silence, which she could not quite keep up, for every now and again she threw out a retort. Aunt Margaret’s ponderous black form filled up the inner doorway. Her large face, her drawn-in mouth, her black, shining eyes, her wig, gave her an alarming and bizarre appearance, but Miss Izzy was not in the least alarmed. I came in, not wishing to be caught listening. Miss Izzy just cast a glance at me, and tossed her head. I brushed past Aunt Margaret and went upstairs to my dinner, leaving the parlour door open, however, so that I might still hear the conflict going on below. When the shop-bell rang Aunt Margaret’s voice would cease; then, when the customer had departed, it would begin again. Presently I heard Uncle George shuffling downstairs, and his entrance on the scene was followed by an outburst of both feminine voices together. The noise was becoming exciting, but I could no longer make out the words, though I hung over the balusters to listen. Then I heard Aunt Margaret coming upstairs, and Uncle George following her. She was in a violent passion. “Fool――fool――fool,” she screamed at him all along the passage. Then came confused remonstrances in Uncle George’s quiet voice, but they were interrupted by the banging of a door that shook the whole house. I came out into the lobby once more. I heard Uncle George trying to get into the room, but the door must have been locked from the inside, and through it came a shrill torrent of abuse. Uncle George’s face was white and strange as he turned round and caught me staring at him. He told me to go away, but almost immediately he came after me into the parlour, where I had sat down again to my dinner. He told me Aunt Margaret was not well, that she had had a very bad attack last night, and been kept awake and in pain all night long. I could see that he would have liked to know if I had grasped the nature of several of those words that had come out to him through the closed door, but I continued stolidly to eat my dinner, without giving any sign. When I had finished, I got out my books, but as soon as the coast was clear I slipped downstairs to the shop. Miss Izzy was there alone, and affected not to see me. “What’s the matter with Aunt Margaret?” I asked; at which ingenuous question Miss Izzy gave a short contemptuous laugh. A blowzy girl, sucking a sweet, came in to buy a novelette, and when she had gone I informed Miss Izzy that I was going that night to hear “Faust.” Miss Izzy expressed not the faintest interest in this project.