“Ay, well, there’s always accidents and suchlike,” was Mrs. Tanner’s ultimate, rather helpless contribution, but Mrs. Clapham grudged even that indisputable fact. It was as if, by continuing to prove that by no possible chance could Tibbie have come to die, she would presently have succeeded in proving that she was actually still alive.... “She wasn’t the sort to go having accidents, wasn’t my Tibbie,” she finished firmly. “She was that light on her feet, she’d never go falling downstairs, or getting herself run over, or the likes o’ that. That sharp wi’ her eyes an’ all—it was lile or nowt she ever missed; nigh as quick as yon fingers of hers wi’ a needle and cotton!” “Ay, she was smart, was Tibbie—right smart! Eh, and that bonny and all!” They had another weep together over the lost beauty of face and form that gives to the grave its most poignant anguish.... “You’ll be going to her, likely?” she ventured presently, when they were again calm. “Telegraph said as you’d best come.” “Ay, I’m going, of course.” Mrs. Clapham looked startled, gave her face a last scrub, and made an effort to rise to her feet. Her eyes went round to the little clock, and she gave a gasp. “Six o’clock? Nay, it can’t be! Whatever’s wrong?... Eh, what was I doing setting and yowling here!” She struggled up by means of the table, her voice rising until it was shrill, crying out that she must go to Tibbie, that she must be off at once, that somehow she must be with her girl before it was night. Once more the tears poured down her face as she stretched out her hands blindly across the distance that divided herself and the newly dead.... “First thing while morning!” Mrs. Tanner soothed her, also weeping again. “It’s over late now, you’ll think on.” “I’m going to my poor lass!” “Ay, that you shall ... you shall that!” “I’ll go if I have to creep....” She made a painful effort to reach the door, while the other twittered about her with nervous chirps. “Nay, now, you can’t do that.... It’ll be a matter o’ sixty mile! It’ll do the poor thing no good, neither, now that she’s dead and gone.” The words brought her to a sudden halt, spreading their hopelessness on the evening air. She had forgotten, in her eagerness, that it was not a live Tibbie whom she went to seek.... “Ay, that’s so,” she admitted heavily, lifting her hand to her head. “I’m fair moidered to-night,” she muttered at length; “things has gone that fast ...” and slowly, heavily, went back to the angry chair. “Ay, sit still and rest yourself, that’s it,” Mrs. Tanner coaxed. “You must take care of yourself, think on. There’ll be a deal to do at far end. I’ll send them Rawlinson folk a card, saying you’ll be coming by t’ first train, and I’ll get my Joe to ax ’em at t’ ‘Red Cow’ about the time. There’ll be two or three things you’ll want, likely, if you’re going to stop. I’d best see about putting them up.”