"Oh, Laura!" Jose began to be seriously annoyed. "If you're going to stop
a band playing every time some one has an accident, you'll lead a very
strenuous life. I'm every bit as sorry about it as you. I feel just as
sympathetic." Her eyes hardened. She looked at her sister just as she
used to when they were little and fighting together. "You won't bring a
drunken workman back to life by being sentimental," she said softly.

"Drunk! Who said he was drunk?" Laura turned furiously on Jose. She
said, just as they had used to say on those occasions, "I'm going straight
up to tell mother."

"Do, dear," cooed Jose.

"Mother, can I come into your room?" Laura turned the big glass door-knob.

"Of course, child. Why, what's the matter? What's given you such a
colour?" And Mrs. Sheridan turned round from her dressing-table. She was
trying on a new hat.

"Mother, a man's been killed," began Laura.

"Not in the garden?" interrupted her mother.

"No, no!"

"Oh, what a fright you gave me!" Mrs. Sheridan sighed with relief, and
took off the big hat and held it on her knees.

"But listen, mother," said Laura. Breathless, half-choking, she told the
dreadful story. "Of course, we can't have our party, can we?" she pleaded.