"The chimney doesn't smoke, and you know that you are telling a
falsehood. What do you want with it open? You'll have that wild man
darting in upon you some morning. How will you like that?"

"I'm not afeard of him," was the answer, as Rebecca got up from her
knees. "He couldn't eat me."

"But you know how timid your mistress is," returned the clerk, in a voice
of extreme anger. "How dare you, girl, be insolent?"

He shut the door as he spoke--one that opened from the kitchen to the
back garden--and bolted it. Washing his hands, and drying them with a
round towel, he went upstairs, and found Mrs. Gum--as he had now and then
found her of late--in a fit of prostration. She was a little woman, with
a light complexion, and insipid, unmeaning face--some such a face as
Willy's had been--and her hair, worn in neat bands under her cap, was the
colour of tow.

"I couldn't help it, Gum," she began, as she stood before the glass, her
trembling fingers trying to fasten her black alpaca gown--for she had
never left off mourning for their son. "It's past eight, I know; but I've
had such an upset this morning as never was, and I _couldn't_ dress
myself. I've had a shocking dream."

"Drat your dreams!" cried Mr. Gum, very much wanting his breakfast.

"Ah, Gum, don't! Those morning dreams, when they're vivid as this was,
are not sent for ridicule. Pike was in it; and you know I can't _bear_
him to be in my dreams. They are always bad when he is in them."

"If you wanted your breakfast as much as I want mine, you'd let Pike
alone," retorted the clerk.

"I thought he was mixed up in some business with Lord Hartledon. I don't
know what it was, but the dream was full of horror. It seemed that Lord
Hartledon was dead or dying; whether he'd been killed or not, I can't
say; but an awful dread was upon me of seeing him dead. A voice called
out, 'Don't let him come to Calne!' and in the fright I awoke. I can't
remember what part Pike played in the dream," she continued, "only the
impression remained that he was in it."

"Perhaps he killed Lord Hartledon?" cried Gum, mockingly.

"No; not in the dream. Pike did not seem to be mixed up in it for ill.
The ill was all on Lord Hartledon; but it was not Pike brought it upon
him. Who it was, I couldn't see; but it was not Pike."

Clerk Gum looked down at his wife in scornful pity. He wondered
sometimes, in his phlegmatic reasoning, why women were created such
fools.

"Look here, Mrs. G.