“Ellen told her herself,” Mrs. Machell replied, uneasily conscious that the tension was returning. “‘Father’ll be getting past it, is what she says, and I reckon so will Mother.’ She’s a grand plan now for coming over to you instead. She’s just breaking her heart, Jessie says, to get back again over here.... She talks of bringing little Sally with her when she comes, and leaving her if you want her. She’ll be a help to you, she says, now you’re beginning to get on; and Sally’s as keen as mustard to come and live with Granny.” She stopped then, startled by the loudness of her voice in the growing stillness, which seemed at the same time both to accentuate it and rebuke it. Looking across at her hostess, she felt almost panic-stricken at the change which had come upon her. It was impossible, she said to herself, that those few chattered words should so greatly have disturbed her. As if it mattered what Jessie said, or what she chose to repeat! Yet Mattie was sunk in her chair as if the vigour which usually sustained her had suddenly departed from her. Exhaustion had drained the blood from her face, and without its customary bright colour it looked somehow smaller. And wrapping her round about was that curious curtain of quiet; a shroud, as it were, automatically produced for something that had ceased to be.... Glancing at the clock, Dolly stood up sharply, setting the china ringing. “I’ll have to be going, Mrs. Kirkby,” she said as quietly as she could, yet shrinking again from her voice as it smote upon the silence. “Len’ll be wanting his tea. I’ll just have time to lend you a hand with the washing-up, and then I must be off.” She had still another moment of panic before Mattie stirred, afterwards getting to her feet in a series of rather helpless movements. Dolly watched her with troubled eyes, wondering always how far she was responsible for the sudden situation. Even now that Mattie was standing up and moving about, she felt ill at ease with her. The absurd thought flashed through her mind that the Mrs. Kirkby who had got up was not the same Mrs. Kirkby who had sat down!... Between them, they got the washing-up put through in record time, which yet seemed unnaturally long because of the heavy silence in which they did it. Mattie’s work was as efficient as ever, but it seemed to have lost its spring. Her hands, moving with dull sureness among the cups and saucers, looked strangely old and weak. Dolly was dull, too, her brain groping its way back over the talk of the afternoon, and anathematising both her own foolishness and the grumblings of Cousin Jessie. It was with a sense of acute relief that at last she put on her hat and hurried to the door. “Well, I’ll be saying good day to you, Mrs. Kirkby,” she announced hastily to the still only half-recognisable figure of Mattie which had followed her. “It’s been real pleasant to have a chat. If you want a bit of help again when it really comes to packing, you’ve only to let me know.”