’Mother, it isn’t Emma at all.  It’s someone at Wanley.  We can’t help it, mother.  It’s no use taking on.  Now sit down and make yourself quiet.  It isn’t our fault.’

Mrs. Mutimer smiled in a grim way, then laughed—­a most unmusical laugh.

‘Now what’s the good o’ joking in that kind o’ way?  That’s like your father, that is; he’d often come ‘ome an’ tell me sich things as never was, an’ expect me to believe ’em.  An’ I used to purtend I did, jist to please him.  But I’m too old for that kind o’ jokin’.—­Alice, where’s Dick?  How long’ll it be before he’s here?  Where did he leave you?’

’Now do just sit down, mother; here, in this chair.  Just sit quiet for a little, do.’

Mrs. Mutimer pushed aside the girl’s hand; her face had become grave again.

’Let me be, child.  And I tell you I have seen Emma to-day.  Do you think she wouldn’t ‘a told me if things o’ that kind was goin’ on?’

’Emma knows nothing about it, mother.  He hasn’t told any one.  He got me to come because he couldn’t tell it himself.  It was as much a surprise to me as to you, and I think it’s very cruel of him.  But it’s over, and we can’t help it.  I shall have to tell Emma, I suppose, and a nice thing too!’

The old woman had begun to quiver; her hands shook by her sides, her very features trembled with gathering indignation.

‘Dick has gone an’ done this?’ she stammered.  ‘He’s gone an’ broke his given word?  He’s deceived that girl as trusted to him an’ couldn’t help herself?’

’Now, mother, don’t take on so!  You’re going to make yourself ill.  It can’t be helped.  He says he shall send Emma money just the same.’

’Money!  There you’ve hit the word; it’s money as ’as ruined him, and as ’ll be the ruin of us all.  Send her money!  What does the man think she’s made of?  Is all his feelings got as hard as money? and does he think the same of every one else?  If I know Emma, she’ll throw his money in his face.  I knew what ’ud come of it, don’t tell me I didn’t.  That very night as he come ‘ome an’ told me what had ’appened, there was a cold shiver run over me.  I told him as it was the worst news ever come into our ’ouse, and now see if I wasn’t right!  He was angry with me ‘cause I said it, an’ who’s a right to be angry now?  It’s my belief as money’s the curse o’ this world; I never knew a trouble yet as didn’t somehow come of it, either ’cause there was too little or else too much.  And Dick’s gone an’ done this?  And him with all his preachin’ about rights and wrongs an’ what not!  Him as was always a-cryin’ down the rich folks ’cause they hadn’t no feelin’ for the poor!  What feeling’s he had, I’d like to know?  It’s him as is rich now, an’ where’s the difference ’tween him and them as he called names?  No feelin’ for the poor!  An’ what’s Emma Vine?  Poor enough by now.  There’s Jane as can’t have not a week more to live, an’ she a-nursin’ her night an’ day.  He’ll give her