“Where’s the money comin’ from?” she demanded again.  “There’s Jim gone, and all his mother’s got is that little, mortgaged place, and she feeble, and there ain’t a cent anywhere, unless—­” She turned fiercely to Andrew, clutching him hard by the arm.

“You must take every cent of that money out of the savings-bank,” she cried, “every cent of it.  I’m your wife, and I’ve been a good wife to you, you can’t say I haven’t.”

“Yes, of course you have, poor girl!  Don’t, don’t!” said Andrew, soothingly.  He was very pale, and shook from head to foot as he tried to calm Fanny.

“Yes, I’ve been a good, faithful wife,” Fanny went on, in her high, hysterical voice.  “Even your mother can’t say that I haven’t; and Eva is my own sister, and you ought to help her.  Every cent of that money will have to come out of the savings-bank, and the house here will have to be mortgaged; it’s only my due.  I would do as much for you if it was your sister.  Eva ain’t goin’ to suffer.”

“I guess if you mortgage this house that you had from your father, to keep a woman whose husband has gone off and left her,” said Mrs. Zelotes, “I guess if you don’t go and get him back, and get the law to tackle him!”

Then Fanny turned on her.  “Don’t you say a word,” said she.  “My sister ain’t goin’ to suffer, I don’t care where the money comes from.  It’s mine as much as Andrew’s.  I’ve half supported the family myself sewin’ on wrappers, and I’ve got a right to have my say.  My sister ain’t goin’ to suffer!  Oh, my God, what’s goin’ to become of her?  Poor Eva, poor Eva!  Eighteen dollars a week; that’s as much as Andrew ever earned.  Oh, it was awful, it was awful!  There, when I got in there, she had a—­knife, the—­carving knife, and she had Amabel’s hair all gathered up in one hand, and her head tipped back, and poor old mother Tenny was holding her arms, and screamin’, and it was all I could do to get the knife away,” and Fanny stripped up her sleeves, and showed a glancing cut on her arm.

“She did that before I got it away from her,” she said.  “Think of it, my own sister!  My own sister, who always thought so much of me, and would have had her own fingers cut to the bone before she would have let any one touch me or Ellen!  Oh, poor Eva, poor Eva!  What is goin’ to become of her, what is goin’ to become of her?”

Mrs. Zelotes went out of the house with a jerk of angry decision, and presently returned with a bottle half full of whiskey.

“Here,” said she to Ellen, “you pour out a quarter of a tumbler of this, and fill it up with hot water.  I ain’t goin’ to have the whole family in an asylum because Jim Tenny has run off with another woman, if I can help it!”

The old woman’s steady force of will asserted itself over the hysterical nature of her daughter-in-law.  Fanny drank the whiskey and water and went to bed, half stupefied, and Mrs. Zelotes went home.

“You ring the bell in the night if she’s taken worse, and I’ll come over,” said she to her son.