"Poor creatures! that class of people scarcely ever get enough to eat or
drink, and thus so many of them die of decline brought on from
insufficiency of nourishment. I will send a bag of flour up to the hut
to-morrow," said Mrs. Brudenell complacently.

Soon after they all arose from the table.

The little doctor offered his arm to Mrs. Brudenell, and as they walked
to the drawing-room he found an opportunity of saying to her:

"It is, I think, as you surmised. There is something on his mind. Try to
find out what it is. That is my advice. It is of no use to tease him
with medical attendance."

When they reached the drawing room they found the boy with the mail bag
waiting for his mistress. She quickly unlocked and distributed its
contents.

"Letters for everybody except myself! But here is a late copy of the
'London Times' with which I can amuse myself while you look over your
epistles, ladies and gentlemen," said Mrs. Brudenell, as she settled
herself to the perusal of her paper. She skipped the leader, read the
court circular, and was deep in the column of casualties, when she
suddenly cried out:

"Good Heaven, Herman! what a catastrophe!"

"What is it, mother?"