swept from the room.

It was some time before the mayor descended to his shop. In the
interval he had thought the matter over, and had concluded that
it would be best for him to let his wife have her way. Indeed, he
did not see how he could do otherwise.

He had expected a storm, but not such a storm as this. Never before
in his fifteen years of married life had he seen his wife in such
a passion, and there was no saying whether she would not carry all
her threats into execution if he interfered with her now. No. It
would be better to let her go. The storm would blow over in time.
It was natural enough for her to go over and stay a few weeks with
her people, and in time, of course, she would come back again. After
all, he had got rid of Jack, and this being so, he could afford for
awhile to put up with the absence of his wife. It was unpleasant,
of course, very unpleasant, to be called such names, but as no
one had heard them but himself it did not so much matter. Perhaps,
after all, it was the best thing that could happen that she should
take it into her head to go away for a time. In her present mood
she would not make things comfortable at home, and, of course, his
daughter would side with her mother.

Accordingly, when the carrier's wagon stopped at the door the mayor
went out with a pleasant countenance, and saw that the boxes were
safely placed in it, and that his wife was comfortably seated on
some shawls spread over a heap of straw. His attention, however,
received neither thanks nor recognition from Dame Anthony, while
Alice, whose face was swollen with crying, did not speak a word.
However, they were seated well under the cover of the wagon, and