doors if we don't have supper ready when he comes in."

Spurred by fear of such a dire possibility, Mrs. Mumpson was bustling around
when Holcroft entered. "We'll soon be ready," she gushed, "we'll soon place
our evening repast upon the table."

"Very well," was the brief reply, as he passed up the stairs with the small
hair trunk on his shoulder.


Chapter IV. Domestic Bliss

Holcroft had been given a foretaste of the phase of torment which he was
destined to endure in his domestic relations, and was planning to secure a
refuge into which he could not be pursued. He had made himself a little more
presentable for supper, instinctively aware that nothing would escape the
lynx-eyed widow, and was taking some measurements from the floor to a
stovepipe hole leading into the chimney flue, when he became aware that
someone was in the doorway. Turning, he saw Jane with her small catlike eyes
fixed intently upon him. Instantly he had the feeling that he was being
watched and would be watched.

"Supper's ready," said the girl, disappearing.

Mrs. Mumpson smiled upon him--if certain contortions of her thin, sharp face
could be termed a smile--from that side of the table at which his wife had sat
so many years, and he saw that the low rocking chair, which he had preserved
jealously from his former "help," had been brought from the parlor and
established in the old familiar place. Mrs. Mumpson folded her hands and
assumed a look of deep solemnity; Jane, as instructed, also lowered her head,