"Oh, certainly, certainly!" ejaculated the widow. "Repose is nature's sweet
rester, says the poet. I can see how recalling those dreadful scenes with
those peculiar females--" But he was gone.

In passing out, he caught sight of Jane whisking back into the kitchen. "She's
been listening," he thought. "Well, I'll go to town tomorrow afternoon, get a
stove for my room upstairs, and stuff the keyhole."

He went to the barn and looked with envy at the placid cows and quiet horses.
At last, having lingered as long as he could, he returned to the kitchen.
Jane had washed and put away the supper dishes after a fashion, and was now
sitting on the edge of a chair in the farthest corner of the room.

"Take this candle and go to your mother," he said curtly. Then he fastened
the doors and put out the lamp. Standing for an instant at the parlor
entrance, he added, "Please rake up the fire and put out the light before you
come up. Good night."

"Oh, certainly, certainly! We'll look after everything just as if it was our
own. The sense of strangeness will soon pass--" But his steps were halfway up
the stairs.

Mother and daughter listened until they heard him overhead, then, taking the
candle, they began a most minute examination of everything in the room.

Poor Holcroft listened also; too worried, anxious, and nervous to sleep until
they came up and all sounds ceased in the adjoining apartment.


Chapter V. Mrs. Mumpson Takes Up Her Burdens