establishment had not been suspended during her recent troubles. She
greeted them both hospitably, though not without a hint of reproach,
which found expression in words when she had come to the end of a
detailed account of the funeral.

"I thought you'd 'a' been round long ago," she said. "Your flowers was
lovely, Miss Olga. You ought to 'a' seen 'em a-layin' on pore mother. I
made sure as you'd want to. And you too, Miss Violet. I kept the coffin
open till the very last minute, thinkin' as you'd come."

"That was very sweet of you, Mrs. Briggs," said Violet. "It was all Dr.
Wyndham's fault that we didn't. I'm staying there, you know, and
whatever he says is law. I'm sure I don't know why, but there it is."

"Well, there!" said Mrs. Briggs. "I might 'a' known. Pore mother was
frit to death o' he. 'There's black magic in 'im' she says to me. It was
the day as she was took, too. 'Black magic,' she says. 'I've a-begged
'im to let me die easy, but Lor' bless yer, 'e don't take no more notice
than if 'e were the Spink,'" Mrs. Briggs glanced over her shoulder. "But
there's one thing as you'll both be glad to know," she said, lowering
her voice confidentially, "she died easy, pore soul, in spite of 'im. 'E
don't know 'ow that was."

"What?" gasped both girls in a breath.

Mrs. Briggs went to the door, peered out, softly closed it. Her eyes
shone craftily as she returned. She took up her rolling-pin, holding it
impressively between her floury hands.

"Two days afore pore mother went," she began, with an air of gruesome