ies to the
disturbed state of the atmosphere.

In the meantime, Bell, who was a healthy young woman, with no nerves to
be affected by the atmosphere, walked swiftly homeward along the airless
streets. There were few people on their feet, for the night was too
close for exercise, and the majority of the inhabitants sat in chairs
before their doors, weary and out of temper. Nature and her creatures
were waiting for the windows of the firmament to be opened, for the air
to be cleansed, for life to be renewed. Bell met none of the harvesters
and was not molested in any way. Had she been spoken to, or hustled,
there is no doubt she would have been as good as her word and have
slapped her assailant's face. Fortunately, there was no need for her to
proceed to such extremes.

At the door of The Derby Winner she was rather surprised to find Miss
Whichello waiting for her. The little old lady wore her poke bonnet and
old-fashioned black silk cloak, and appeared anxious and nervous, and
altogether unlike her usual cheery self. Bell liked Miss Whichello as
much as she disliked Mrs Pansey, therefore she greeted her with
unfeigned pleasure, although she could not help expressing her surprise
that the visitor was in that quarter of the town so late at night. Miss
Whichello produced a parcel from under her voluminous cloak and offered
it as an explanation of her presence.

'This is a pot of calf's-foot jelly for your mother, Miss Mosk,' she
said. 'Mr Cargrim came to luncheon at my house to-day, and he told me
how ill your mother is. I was informed that she was asleep, so, not
wishing to disturb her, I waited until you returned.'

'It is very kind of you to take so much trouble, Miss Whichello,' said
Bell, gratefully receiving the jelly. 'I hope you have not been waiting
long.'

'Only ten minutes; your servant told me that you would return soon.'

'I have been to church and stopped after service to talk to some
friends, Miss Whichello. Won't you come in for a few minutes? I'll see
if my mother is awake.'

'Thank you, I'll come in for a time, but do not waken your mother on my
account. Sleep is always the best medicine in case of sickness. I hope
Mrs Mosk is careful of her diet.'

'Well, she eats very little.'

'That is wise; very little food, but that little nourishing and
frequently administered. Give her a cup of beef-tea two or three times
in the night, my dear, and you'll find it will sustain the body
wonderfully.'

'I