in their sitting-room. Her husband watched her in surprised silence. She had never done such a thing before.
"I couldn’t stay down there," she said; "it was so cold and foggy. I thought I’d make breakfast up here, just for to-day."
"Yes," he said kindly; "that’s quite right, Ellen. I think you’ve done quite right, my dear."
But, when it came to the point, his wife could not eat any of the nice breakfast she had got ready; she only had another cup of tea.
"I’m afraid you’re ill, Ellen?" Bunting asked solicitously.
"No," she said shortly; "I’m not ill at all. Don’t be silly! The thought of that horrible thing happening so close by has upset me, and put me off my food. Just hark to them now!"
Through their closed windows penetrated the sound of scurrying feet and loud, ribald laughter. What a crowd, nay, what a mob, must be hastening busily to and from the spot where there was now nothing to be seen!
Mrs. Bunting made her husband lock the front gate. "I don’t want any of those ghouls in here!" she exclaimed angrily. And then, "What a lot of idle people there are in the world!" she said.
