At ten o'clock next morning Mrs. Peckover reached home. She was a
tall, big-boned woman of fifty, with an arm like a coalheaver's. She
had dark hair, which shone and was odorous with unguents; a sallow,
uncomely face, and a handsome moustache. Her countenance was more
difficult to read than Clem's; a coarse, and most likely brutal,
nature was plain enough in its lines, but there was also a
suggestion of self-restraint, of sagacity, at all events of
cunning--qualities which were decidedly not inherited by her daughter.
With her came the relative whose presence had been desired at the
funeral to-day. This was Mrs. Gully, a stout person with a very red
nose and bleared eyes. The credit of the family demanded that as
many relatives as possible should follow the hearse, and Mrs.
Peckover's reason for conducting Mrs. Gully hither was a justifiable
fear lest, if she came alone, the latter would arrive in too
manifest a state of insobriety. A certain amount of stimulant had
been permitted on the way, just enough to assist a genteel
loquacity, for which Mrs. Gully had a reputation. She had given her
word to abstain from further imbibing until after the funeral.

The news which greeted her arrival was anything but welcome to Mrs.
Peckover. In the first place, there. would be far more work than
usual to be performed in the house to-day, and Jane could be ill
spared. Worse than that, however, Clara Hewett, who was losing half
a day's work on Jane's account, made a very emphatic statement as to
the origin of the illness, and said that if anything happened to
Jane, there would be disagreeable facts forthcoming at a coroner's