ithout warning, he rushed
upon his tormentors, and with angry shrieks endeavoured to take
revenge. The uproar continued till a policeman came and cleared the
way. Then Jack went off again, singing, 'All ye works of the Lord.'
With his voice blended that of the costermonger, 'Penny a bundill!'

Up in the Hewetts' back-room lay Jane Snowdon, now seemingly asleep,
now delirious. When she talked, a name was constantly upon her lips;
she kept calling for 'Mr. Kirkwood.' Amy was at school; Annie and Tom
frequently went into the room and gazed curiously at the sick girl.
Mrs. Hewett felt so ill to-day that she could only lie on the bed and
try to silence her baby's crying.

The house-door was left wide open between the departure and return of
the mourners; a superstition of the people demands this. The Peckovers
brought back with them some half a dozen relatives and friends, invited
to a late dinner. The meal had been in preparation at an eating-house
close by, and was now speedily made ready in the parlour. A liberal
supply of various ales was furnished by the agency of a pot-boy (Jane's
absence being much felt), and in the course of half an hour or so the
company were sufficiently restored to address themselves anew to the
bottles and decanters. Mrs. Gully was now permitted to obey her
instincts; the natural result could be attributed to overstrung
feelings.

Just when the mourners had grown noisily hilarious, testifying thereby
to the respectability with which things were being conducted to the
very end, Mrs. Peckover became aware of a knocking at the front-door.
She bade her daughter go and see who it was. Clem, speedily returning,
beckoned her mother from among the guests.

'It's somebody wants to know if there ain't somebody called Snowdon
livin' 'ere,' she whispered in a tone of alarm. 'An old man.'

Mrs. Peckover never drank more than was consistent with the perfect
clearness of her brain. At present she had very red cheeks, and her
cat-like eyes gleamed noticeably, but any kind of business would have
found her as shrewdly competent as ever.

'What did you say?' she whispered savagely

'Said I'd come an' ask.'

'You stay 'ere. Don't say nothink.'

Mrs. Peckover left the room, closed the door behind her, and went along
the passage. On the doorstep stood a man with white hair, wearing an
unusual kind of cloak and a strange hat. He looked at the landlady
without speaking.

'What was you wantin', mister?'

'