“Save us, Emma Catterall! You don’t mean to say you’ve ventured out to see what’s coming to me and Mrs. Clapham? I wonder the skies don’t fall—I do that! Me and Mrs. Clapham feel real honoured, I’m sure. You’re in plenty of time if you want to know; you’ll be in at the death; though, if post didn’t happen to be late this morning, you’d likely have missed it, after all!” “In at the death, am I?” Emma repeated in that uncannily still voice which did not so much seem to speak as only to happen. “In at the death? ...” The little smile came to her lips, as if at some peculiarly agreeable thought.... “Ay, well, that’s where we all come in, one time or another....” Her eyes slid up and down and away from each of the group, and came to a halt on Mrs. Clapham. “Seeing you all that throng made me quite curious-like,” she continued, after a pause. “’Tisn’t everybody has the time to be standing about that early in the day; but there, as I always say, I reckon you know your own business best....” A kind of spasm ran through the group at the phrase which they had all long since learned to hate. They were all strung-up and sensitive by now, and the phrase tightened the tension beyond bearing. Mrs. Airey’s face lost its comfortable, motherly look, and Mrs. Dunn’s grew longer and flatter. As for Mrs. James, in spite of the house with the pillars, she gave the impression of actually creeping under the wing-feathers of Mrs. Clapham. “No harm in waiting for t’post, I suppose?” yapped Martha Jane; “especially when folks has important business!” “Depends on who’s waiting—and what for!” Emma’s tone was silky, but dreadfully full of meaning, and Martha Jane suddenly wilted. “A man isn’t less of a man because he’s a bag on his back and a bit of red to the front of his coat.... He’s ter’ble late, anyway, isn’t he?” she went on smoothly, leaving her cryptic statement to drive pleasantly home. “I’ve noticed a deal o’ times that, when news is long on the road, it’s like enough because there doesn’t happen to be any at all.” For the second time that morning Mrs. Airey and Mrs. Dunn drew together and touched hands. They who had hungered for news through the Great War knew the terrible truth of that. Mrs. Tanner, however, perked up her head. “What, there must be news sometime, you’ll think on!” she chirruped bravely. “It’s only a matter of who brings it. There’s some think it’ll be Mr. Baines.”