ement died out, and Doughy was left muttering to
himself. From the group at the corner came the roar of a chorus:

You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee,
I'd like to sip the honey sweet from those red lips, you see;
I love you dearly, dearly, and I want you to love me;
You are my honey, honeysuckle, I am the bee.

Doughy still muttered, but the beer had deadened his senses and his
jealous anger had evaporated. Half an hour later his wife crossed the
street cautiously and went inside. Doughy saw her and, having reached
the maudlin stage, got up and lurched across the street, anxious to
make it up and be friends. Quite like the old times, thought Mrs
Yabsley, when the street was as good as a play. And suddenly
remembering her dismal thoughts of an hour ago, she saw in a flash that
she had grown old and that the street had remained young. The past, on
which her mind dwelt so fondly, was not wonderful. It was her youth
that was wonderful, and now she was grown old. She recognized that the
street was the same, and that she had changed--that the world is for
ever beginning for some and ending for others.

It was nearly midnight, and, with a shiver, she pulled the shawl over
her shoulders and took a last look at the street before she went to
bed. Thirty years ago since she came to live in it, when half the
street was an open paddock! If Jim could see it now he wouldn't know
it! The thought brought the vision of him before her eyes. She was an
old woman now, but in her mind's eye he remained for ever young and for
ever joyous, the smart workman in a grey cap, with the brown moustache
and laughing eyes, who was nobody's enemy but his own. Something
within her had snapped when he died, and she had remained on the
defensive against life, expecting nothing, surprised at nothing,
content to sit out the performance like a spectator at the play.

She thought of to-morrow, and decided to pay a surprise visit to the
Silver Shoe before the people set out for church. There was something
wrong with Ada, she felt sure. Jonah had failed to look her in the eye
when she had asked news of Ada the last time. Well, she would go and
see for herself, and talk Ada into her senses again. She locked the
door and went to bed.

She gave Jonah and Ada a surprise, but not in the way she intended. On
Sunday morning it happened that Mrs Swadling sent over for a pinch of
tea, and, growing impatient, ran across to see what