gs that she had bought the previous
day for her own and Bunting's breakfast upstairs, and broiled them
over the gas-ring in their sitting-room. Her husband watched her in
surprised silence. She had never done such a thing before.

"I couldn't stay down there," she said; "it was so cold and foggy.
I thought I'd make breakfast up here, just for to-day."

"Yes," he said kindly; "that's quite right, Ellen. I think you've
done quite right, my dear."

But, when it came to the point, his wife could not eat any of the
nice breakfast she had got ready; she only had another cup of tea.

"I'm afraid you're ill, Ellen?" Bunting asked solicitously.

"No," she said shortly; "I'm not ill at all. Don't be silly! The
thought of that horrible thing happening so close by has upset me,
and put me off my food. Just hark to them now!"

Through their closed windows penetrated the sound of scurrying feet
and loud, ribald laughter. What a crowd; nay, what a mob, must be
hastening busily to and from the spot where there was now nothing
to be seen!

Mrs. Bunting made her husband lock the front gate. "I don't want
any of those ghouls in here!" she exclaimed angrily. And then,
"What a lot of idle people there are in the world!" she said.

CHAPTER XVI

Bunting began moving about the room restlessly. He would go to the
window; stand there awhile staring out at the people hurrying past;
then, coming back to the fireplace, sit down.

But he could not stay long quiet. After a glance at his paper, up
he would rise from his chair, and go to the window again.

"I wish you'd stay still," his wife said at last. And then, a few
minutes later, "Hadn't you better put your hat and coat on and go
out?" she exclaimed.

And Bunting, with a rather shamed expression, did put on his hat
and coat and go out.

As he did so he told himself that, after all, he was but human; it
was natural that he should be thrilled and excited by the dreadful,
extraordinary thing which had just happened close by. Ellen wasn't
reasonable about such things. How queer and disagreeable she had
been that very morning--angry with him because he had gone out
to hear what all the row was about, and even more angry when he had
come back and said nothing, because he thought it would annoy her
to hear about it!

Meanwhile, Mrs. Bunting forced herself to go down again into the
kitchen, and as she went through into the low, whitewashed place,
a tremor of fear, of quick terror,