t.

And the fact was that Mrs. Grant, quite unconsciously, did appear to be
savouring the catastrophe with pleasure. Although paralytic strokes were
more prevalent at that period than now, they constituted even then a
striking dramatic event. Moreover, they were considered as direct
visitations of God. Also there was something mysteriously and agreeably
impressive in the word 'paralytic,' which people would repeat for the
pleasure of repeating it. Mrs. Grant, over whose mighty breast flowed a
black mantle suited to the occasion, used the word again and again as
she narrated afresh for Hilda the history of the stroke.

"Yes," she said, "they came and fetched me out of my bed at three
o'clock this morning; and would you believe me, though he couldn't
hardly speak, the money and this here book was all waiting in his desk,
and he would have me come with it! And him sixty-seven! He always was
like that. And I do believe if he'd been paralysed on both sides instead
of only all down his right side, and speechless too, he'd ha' made me
understand as I must come here at two o'clock. If I'm a bit late it's
because I was kept at home with my son Enoch; he's got a whitlow that's
worrying the life out of him, our Enoch has."

Mrs. Lessways warmly deprecated any apology for inexactitude, and wiped
her sympathetic eyes.

"It's all over with father," Mrs. Grant resumed. "Doctor hinted to me
quiet-like as he'd never leave his bed again. He's laid himself down for
the rest of his days.... And he'd been warned! He'd had warnings. But
there!..."

Mrs. Grant contemplated with solemn gleeful satisfaction the
overwhelming grandeur of the disaster that had happened to her father.
The active old man, a continual figure of the streets, had been cut off
in a moment from the world and condemned for life to a mattress. She
sincerely imagined herself to be filled with proper grief; but an
aesthetic appreciation of the theatrical effectiveness of the misfortune
was certainly stronger in her than any other feeling. Observing that
Mrs. Lessways wept, she also drew out a handkerchief.

"I'm wishful for you to count the money," said Mrs. Grant. "I wouldn't
like there to be any--"

"Nay, that I'll not!" protested Mrs. Lessways.

Mrs. Grant's pressing duties necessitated her immediate departure. Mrs.
Lessways ceremoniously insisted on her leaving by the front door.

"I don't know where you'll find another rent-collector that's worth his
salt--in