kened "foolishness," and so all she said was,
"There's no need to make a fuss! I only turned over a little queer.
I never was right off, Daisy."

Pettishly she pushed away the glass in which Bunting had hurriedly
poured a little brandy. "I wouldn't touch such stuff--no, not if
I was dying!" she exclaimed.

Putting out a languid hand, she pulled herself up, with the help of
the table, on to her feet. "Go down again to the kitchen, child";
but there was a sob, a kind of tremor in her voice.

"You haven't been eating properly, Ellen--that's what's the matter
with you," said Bunting suddenly. "Now I come to think of it, you
haven't eat half enough these last two days. I always did say--in
old days many a time I telled you--that a woman couldn't live on
air. But there, you never believed me!"

Daisy stood looking from one to the other, a shadow over her bright,
pretty face. "I'd no idea you'd had such a bad time, father," she
said feelingly. "Why didn't you let me know about it? I might have
got something out of Old Aunt."

"We didn't want anything of that sort," said her stepmother hastily.
"But of course--well, I expect I'm still feeling the worry now. I
don't seem able to forget it. Those days of waiting, of--of--"
she restrained herself; another moment and the word "starving" would
have left her lips.

"But everything's all right now," said Bunting eagerly, "all right,
thanks to Mr. Sleuth, that is."

"Yes," repeated his wife, in a low, strange tone of voice. "Yes,
we're all right now, and as you say, Bunting, it's all along of
Mr. Sleuth."

She walked across to a chair and sat down on it. "I'm just a little
tottery still," she muttered.

And Daisy, looking at her, turned to her father and said in a
whisper, but not so low but that Mrs. Bunting heard her, "Don't you
think Ellen ought to see a doctor, father? He might give her
something that would pull her round."

"I won't see no doctor!" said Mrs. Bunting with sudden emphasis. "I
saw enough of doctors in my last place. Thirty-eight doctors in ten
months did my poor missis have. Just determined on having 'em she
was! Did they save her? No! She died just the same! Maybe a bit
sooner."

"She was a freak, was your last mistress, Ellen," began Bunting
aggressively.

Ellen had insisted on staying on in that place till her poor mistress
died. They might have been married some months before they were
married but for that fact. Bunting had always resented it.