to establish her daughter satisfactorily as by the ever- wakeful instinct which bade her seize whenever gain lay near her clutches. Clem was proving disloyal, had grown secretive. Mrs. Peckover did not look for any direct profit worth speaking of from the marriage she had brought about, but she did desire the joy of continuing to plot against Joseph with his wife. Moreover, she knew that Clem was a bungler, altogether lacking in astuteness, and her soul was pained by the thought of chances being missed. Her encounter with the lodger had wrought her up to the point at which she could discuss matters with Clem frankly. The two abused each other for a while, but Clem really desired to communicate her news, so that calmer dialogue presently ensued.
“Old Snowdon’s had a stroke, if you’d like to know, and it’s my belief he won’t get over it.”
“Your belief! And what’s your belief worth? Had a stroke, has he? Who told you?”
“I’ve just come from the ‘ouse. Jo’s stoppin there.”
They discussed the situation in all its
