uld be done, I assure you,
Mrs Baker.'

'I believe it,' said Mrs Baker. 'And you don't know how it relieves me
to hear it. And did the publican do all this at his own expense?'

'He wouldn't take a penny, Mrs Baker.'

'He must have been a good true man. I wish I could thank him.'

'Oh, Ned thanked him for you,' said Andy, though without meaning more
than he said.

'I wouldn't have fancied that Ned would have thought of that,' said Mrs
Baker. 'When I first heard of my poor husband's death, I thought perhaps
he'd been drinking again--that worried me a bit.'

'He never touched a drop after he left Solong, I can assure you, Mrs
Baker,' said Andy quickly.

Now I noticed that Miss Standish seemed surprised or puzzled, once or
twice, while Andy was speaking, and leaned forward to listen to him;
then she leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head
and looked at him, with half-shut eyes, in a way I didn't like. Once or
twice she looked at me as if she was going to ask me a question, but I
always looked away quick and stared at Blucher and Wellington, or into
the empty fireplace, till I felt that her eyes were off me. Then she
asked Andy a question or two, in all innocence I believe now, but it
scared him, and at last he watched his chance and winked at her sharp.
Then she gave a little gasp and shut up like a steel trap.

The sick child in the bedroom coughed and cried again. Mrs Baker went
to it. We three sat like a deaf-and-dumb institution, Andy and I staring
all over the place: presently Miss Standish excused herself, and went
out of the room after her sister. She looked hard at Andy as she left
the room, but he kept his eyes away.

'Brace up now, Jack,' whispered Andy to me, 'the worst is coming.'

When they came in again Mrs Baker made Andy go on with his story.

'He--he died very quietly,' said Andy, hitching round, and resting his
elbows on his knees, and looking into the fireplace so as to have his
face away from the light. Miss Standish put her arm round her sister.
'He died very easy,' said Andy. 'He was a bit off his head at times, but
that was while the fever was on him. He didn't suffer much towards the
end--I don't think he suffered at all.... He talked a lot about you and
the children.' (Andy was speaking very softly now.) 'He said that you
were not to fret, but to cheer up for the children's sake.... It was the
biggest funeral ever seen round there.'

Mrs Baker was crying softly.