“Yon lordship o’ yours’ll be rarely set up when he hears tell about it!” Emma finished sardonically. “A bonny specimen for an almshouse _you_ are, to be sure!...” And from the new huddle formed by the women against the wall came the indignant supplement from Mrs. James—“And her setting herself up to be judging of Mr. Baines!” It was a bitter blow to Martha Jane when she found herself thus suddenly left in the lurch. Those moments of support from the respectable Clapham Contingent had been some of the sweetest in her not very sweet life. Now, however, she was once again under the ban, thrust back into the role of Chief Village Sinner, beside whose delinquencies even Emma’s looked pleasantly pale.... “Ay, and if I was!” she shrilled defiantly, as much to the virtuous Chorus as to Emma herself. Flushing, she threw back her hair, looking more Bacchanalian than ever. “That’s my own business, I reckon, as you say one had ought to know best!... But if you’re that keen on folks minding their own business and nowt else, what have you got to say about yon telegraph, Mrs. Emma?” A fresh quiver ran the length of Emma’s stout little frame, and her arms fell away to her sides, as if they were struck. Mrs. Clapham’s eyes suddenly sharpened their focus as they rested on Martha Jane. “Telegraph?” Mrs. Tanner was saying, with a bewildered air. “What, she’d nowt to do wi’ that! I took it from t’ lad myself.” “Ay, there’s been overmuch taking of other folks’ telegraphs and suchlike to-day!...” Martha Jane couldn’t resist the slap. “But I’m not talking about that telegraph, thank you, Mrs. Tanner. I’m talking of yon as come this morning.” “A deal _you_ remember about this morning!” Emma sneered in a breathless tone, lifting her arms as though they were hung with weights. “I can remember all I want to, anyway, and that’ll be more than’ll suit _you_! I reckon I’m not the only one as see telegraph boy riding up about eight o’clock.” A fresh thrill of excitement ran through the room, drawing the Chorus towards her again, in spite of their horror of drink. Subconsciously they knew what was coming, as they had known about Tibbie’s death; and Mrs. Clapham, too, guessing the truth in that instant, waited rigidly, holding her breath.... “Ay, I saw him for one!” Mrs. Tanner piped excitedly.... “Ay, and me,” added Mrs. Dunn. “And me,” finished Mrs. Clapham, speaking with stiff lips. “I made sure it was for t’ Hall!” went on Mrs. Tanner, thrilling in every nerve. “Nay, it was not for t’ Hall, not it!” Martha Jane put her in place. “It was a deal nearer home than that. Telegraph-boy took it to Emma, but it was intended for poor Ann. And if you want to know what it said, well, it said as Tibbie was dying, and would Mrs. Clapham here be sure and come by the first train....”