For the first moment after the revelation there was absolute silence. Terrible as had been the suspicion at the back of the women’s minds, it was still more terrible when put into words. The huddle at the opposite wall was more like a huddle of sheep than ever. Emma’s lips were pressed tightly into a straight line, and her arms worked and worked as if they would never stop.... Slowly Mrs. Clapham took her leg from the tub, and with a painful effort drew herself up by the edge of the table. Her eyes fastened themselves upon Martha Jane, who met the terrible glance without flinching. “Are you meaning to say they sent telegraph for me this morning, and I never got it?” she inquired, speaking with difficulty. “Ay.” “Are you meaning to say Emma kept me from my dying lass?” “Ay!” Pity and exultation had equal share in the slattern’s tone. “Prove it!” Emma exploded breathlessly, a-shiver from top to toe, and Martha Jane gave a contemptuous laugh. “Ay, I’ll prove it right enough, don’t you fret!” she answered her, with an insolent glance. “You see, it was like this—” she turned back again to Mrs. Clapham. “Telegraph was addressed right enough to you inside, but outside one o’ them Post Office hussies had put Catterall.” (“Eh, to think o’ such a thing! Did you ever now! Eh, now, did you ever!” The stunned Chorus breathed itself back into audible life.) “Emma was in her rights opening it, you’ll think on, but she’d no sort o’ right to t’ news as was inside. She said nowt about it, though, all the same. She never let on. She just sat tight, and kept t’ message back.” “Ay, but why?” interjected Mrs. James, forgetting in her excitement that she had intended never to speak to the creature again; and the rest of the Chorus echoed her in a puzzled tone—“Ay, that’s like Emma, sure enough! That’s real like her—but why?” “I reckon it was because she wanted almshouse message to get ’livered first. She wanted Mrs. Clapham here tied down. She knew if she got wind about Tibbie she’d be off like a shot, so she made up her mind to keep telegraph back.” “Ay, but why? (Eh, did ye ever hear the like?) But, for t’ land’s sake, whatever for?” repeated the extra thick-headed at the back of the room. “Because she was after them poor barns!” announced the triumphant Martha Jane. “She knew Mrs. Clapham was real set on yon house, and that she wouldn’t be suited having to part with it when she’d got it. Likely she thought she’d be easier to handle about the children if things was fixed.... But if you feel like letting her have ’em after that,” she concluded, dropping her tone, “you’re not the sort as I’ve took you to be, that’s all.”