And then going to a small table which stood between the two windows, Mrs. Bunting took off it a large Bible, which had been given to her as a wedding present by a married lady with whose mother she had lived for several years.
"He said it would do quite well when you take up his supper," said Bunting; and, then, "Ellen? He’s a queer-looking cove—not like any gentleman I ever had to do with."
"He is a gentleman," said Mrs. Bunting rather fiercely.
"Oh, yes, that’s all right." But still he looked at her doubtfully. "I asked him if he’d like me to just put away his clothes. But, Ellen, he said he hadn’t got any clothes!"
"No more he hasn’t;" she spoke quickly, defensively. "He had the misfortune to lose his luggage. He’s one dishonest folk ’ud take advantage of."
"Yes, one can see that with half an eye," Bunting agreed.
And then there was silence for a few moments, while Mrs. Bunting put down on a little bit of paper the things she wanted her husband to go out and buy for her. She handed him the list, together with a sovereign. "Be as quick as you can," she said, "for I feel a bit hungry. I’ll be going down now to see about Mr. Sleuth’s supper. He only wants a glass of milk and two eggs. I’m glad I’ve never fallen to bad eggs!"
"Sleuth," echoed Bunting, staring at her. "What a queer name! How d’you spell it—S-l-u-t-h?"
"No," she shot out, "S-l-e-u-t-h."
"Oh," he said doubtfully.
