Mrs. Tom was careful not to look at him. She and Richbell, standing at their gate in the small hours, had seen a light in Wastralls. If the Byrons were abed who then was up? Perhaps Sabina, feeling unwell, had gone in search of a remedy. That was possible, of course, indeed quite likely. Not until later did Mrs. Tom remember that the light had been stationary. If Sabina had been seeking medicine or a hot-water bottle she would have been carrying a candle. "Well, there’s a lot of things to be done," she said, non-committally. "Can you tend to ’em?" He shook his heavy shoulders, as if he would have shaken off something unwelcome. He would like to have told her he had not slept much the previous night but that was out of the question. "Oh well, you must leave me go out and think it over first," he said, making for the door, "I’ll tell yer when I come back." Death in a household, particularly sudden death, brings a rush of work. Mrs. Tom, realizing that the brunt of this must fall on her, as the wife of Sabina’s nearest relative, was thankful to see that Richbell had made the tea and fried some bacon. She drew her chair to the table and sat down, sat down with the quick lamentable thought that here Sabina would never sit again. The thought flashed up into poignancy and passed. She must not think of it now, for there was work to be done. "Now, my dear," she said, when they had eaten and the little breathing-space, between the knowledge of calamity and the girding up of loins, was at an end, "Now, my dear, you must go ’ome. ’Tis no place for you ’ere." "Iss, mammy." The lively self-assertive girl was become pliant to her mother’s hand. Mrs. Tom made her dispositions. "’Tis a pity that Gray went to Gentle Jane, but Leonora must run over and bring ’er back—better be all together now. After you’ve gived the children their breakfast, Rhoda better run up to Cottages and ask Mrs. Bate to come down and set your auntie forth; and tell Aunt Louisa Blewett to come down and bring ’er machine with ’er to do the mournin’s. Let Loveday go to St. Cadic and tell your Aunt Bessie to come down to ’elp us; and now I’ll go and get the room straight." "Is there anything else you’d like for me to do?" Richbell spoke in tones so subdued they hardly rose above a whisper. "You can take my black things out of the box and ask your father to bring ’em down and if there’s anything else I want, when ’e comes back ’e’ll tell yer." "Aren’t you coming home?" Hember without mother would be unspeakably dreary. The girl’s tone, resigned yet unhappy, touched Mrs. Tom’s heart. For a moment practical matters were put aside. "Now you mustn’t go worryin’ yerself," she said, her glance warm and motherly. "Yer auntie’s ’ad a ’ard struggle, so it’s a ’appy release she’s gone. She’s taken out of a world of trouble." "Well, mammy, I can’t help grievin’," protested the girl, her tears rising. "It seems so sudden."