About this time the market where they bought provisions notified Haworth that it could not extend further credit because of unpaid bills. Following shortly, a grocery establishment did the same thing. And Haworth, having no idea what to do about it, as it appeared on investigation that he had very little money left—certainly not enough to pay what was owing—turned the matter over to the old woman, asking her please to attend to it in whatever way she thought best. This she forthwith did by opening accounts elsewhere. This would carry them along for a time at least, and after that “we’ll see.” Put that in quotes, because it was Mrs. Temple’s philosophy to do what she could at the time, and as to the future, “we’ll see.” Where this old woman came from or when she came, no one seemed to know. Haworth himself hadn’t the faintest idea. She spoke very seldom and never about herself. Where she lived was also in the nature of a mystery. Of course it could have been solved if anyone cared to follow her, but no one did. And no one noticed it, either, when she began coming in twice a week instead of once as formerly. Nobody had asked her to, and she said nothing to anyone about an increase in wages. * * * * * Haworth and Edith Findlay were now making little or no effort to conceal the fact from Augustus—or for that matter from anyone—that they were together for the greater part of the time. They were in every way so utterly and completely taken up with each other that nothing else appeared to them of the slightest consequence. They talked and read together, and took long tramps in woods and fields and along country roads. Findlay usually got home from his work about half-past five or six, often in plenty of time to see the two come in from an afternoon’s tramp, or to find them working in the old flower garden together, or something like that. And it was entirely open to observation—when anyone was there to observe it—that in the evening they were by themselves somewhere, reading together or engaged over chess or cribbage. While all this, as I’ve said, could be seen without effort, Augustus had all the appearance of being unaware of it. But he had seen and heard enough in the course of a week or so, to rouse his most malignant passions. Without appearing to do so, he was watching every move they made. When he first began work at the yards, Findlay had felt too tired on getting home at the end of the day, to go back to town again after dinner—or even to nearer places—for alcoholic consolation. This resulted in a much clearer mind than was normal with him. And once his overpowering suspicion was awakened the thought of drinking never crossed his mind.