‘When I got home from my round, I found Mrs. Rose in some sorrow.

‘“Miss Horsman called after you left,” said she. “Have you heard how John Brouncker is at Highport?”

‘“Very well,” replied I. “I called on his wife just now, and she had just got a letter from him. She had been anxious about him, for she had not heard for a week. However, all’s right now; and she has pretty well enough of work, at Mrs. Munton’s, as her servant is ill. Oh, they’ll do, never fear.”

‘“At Mrs. Munton’s? Oh, that accounts for it, then. She is so deaf, and makes such blunders.

‘“Accounts for what?” said I.

‘“Oh, perhaps I had better not tell you,” hesitated Mrs. Rose.

‘“Yes, tell me at once. I beg your pardon, but I hate mysteries.”

‘“You are so like my poor dear Mr. Rose. He used to speak to me just in that sharp, cross way. It is only that Miss Horsman called. She had been making a collection for John Brouncker’s widow and — ”

‘“But the man’s alive!” said I.

‘“So it seems. But Mrs. Munton had told her that he was dead. And she has got Mr. Morgan’s name down at the head of the list, and Mr. Bullock’s .”

‘Mr. Morgan and I had got into a short, cool way of speaking to each other ever since we had differed so much about the treatment of Brouncker’s arm; and I had heard once or twice of his shakes of the head over John’s case. He would not have spoken against my method for the world, and fancied that he concealed his fears.

‘“Miss Horsman is very ill............