it isn’t easy to get a man out of idle ways once he has acquired those ways.
When, at last, she went upstairs again she felt a little ashamed of what she had been thinking, for Bunting had laid the cloth, and laid it very nicely, too, and brought up the two chairs to the table.
"Ellen?" he cried eagerly, "here’s news! Daisy’s coming to-morrow! There’s scarlet fever in their house. Old Aunt thinks she’d better come away for a few days. So, you see, she’ll be here for her birthday. Eighteen, that’s what she be on the nineteenth! It do make me feel old—that it do!"
Mrs. Bunting put down the tray. "I can’t have the girl here just now," she said shortly. "I’ve just as much to do as I can manage. The lodger gives me more trouble than you seem to think for."
"Rubbish!" he said sharply. "I’ll help you with the lodger. It’s your own fault you haven’t had help with him before. Of course, Daisy must come here. Whatever other place could the girl go to?"
Bunting felt pugnacious—so cheerful as to be almost light-hearted. But as he looked across at his wife his feeling of satisfaction vanished. Ellen’s face was pinched and drawn to-day; she looked ill—ill and horribly tired. It was very aggravating of her to go and behave like this—just when they were beginning to get on nicely again.
"For the matter of that," he said suddenly, "Daisy’ll be able to help you with the work, Ellen, and she’ll brisk us both up a bit."
Mrs. Bunting made no answer. She sat down heavily
