as much as that!"
Bunting looked across at Ellen deprecatingly; already his heart
was misgiving him.

"It's plain enough why she's become so fond of us all of a sudden,"
said Mrs. Bunting sarcastically. And as her husband stared at her
uncomprehendingly, she added, in a tantalising tone, "as plain as
the nose on your face, my man."

"What d'you mean?" he said. "I daresay I'm a bit slow, Ellen, but
I really don't know what you'd be at?"

"Don't you remember telling me before Daisy came here that Joe
Chandler had become sweet on her last summer? I thought it only
foolishness then, but I've come round to your view--that's all."

Bunting nodded his head slowly. Yes, Joe had got into the way of
coming very often, and there had been the expedition to that gruesome
Scotland Yard museum, but somehow he, Bunting, had been so interested
in the Avenger murders that he hadn't thought of Joe in any other
connection--not this time, at any rate.

"And do you think Daisy likes him?" There was an unwonted tone of
excitement, of tenderness, in Bunting's voice.

His wife looked over at him; and a thin smile, not an unkindly
smile by any means, lit up her pale face. "I've never been one
to prophesy," she answered deliberately. "But this I don't mind
telling you, Bunting--Daisy'll have plenty o' time to get tired
of Joe Chandler before they two are dead. Mark my words!"

"Well, she might do worse," said Bunting ruminatingly. "He's as
steady as God makes them, and he's already earning thirty-two
shillings a week. But I wonder how Old Aunt'd like the notion?
I don't see her parting with Daisy before she must."

"I wouldn't let no old aunt interfere with me about such a thing
as that!" cried Mrs. Bunting. "No, not for millions of gold!"
And Bunting looked at her in silent wonder. Ellen was singing a
very different tune now to what she'd sung a few minutes ago, when
she was so keen about the girl going to Belgrave Square.

"If she still seems upset while she's having her dinner," said his
wife suddenly, "well, you just wait till I've gone out for something,
and then you just say to her, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder'
--just that, and nothing more! She'll take it from you. And I
shouldn't be surprised if it comforted her quite a lot."

"For the matter of that, there's no reason why Joe Chandler shouldn't
go over and see her there," said Bunting hesitatingly.

"Oh, yes, there is," said Mrs. Bunting, smiling shrewdly. "Plenty