Jane and Mrs. Byass stared at each other in dismay.  The letter that had come this morning enabled them to guess the meaning of Clem’s fury.  The latter interpreted their looks as an admission that Jane too was a victim.  She laughed aloud.

’How does it taste, little liar, oh?  A second disappointment!  You thought you was a-goin’ to have all the money; now you’ve got none, and you may go back to Whitehead’s.  They’ll be glad to see you, will Whitehead’s.  Oh, he’s a nice man, your father!  Would you like to know what’s been goin’ on ever since he found out your old grandfather?  Would you like to know how he put himself out to prevent you an’ that Kirkwood feller gettin’ married, just so that the money mightn’t get into other people’s ’ands?  Would you like to know how my beast of a mother and him put their ’eds together to see how they could get hold of the bloomin’ money?  An’ you thought you was sure of it, didn’t you?  Will you come with me to the perlice-station, just to help to describe what he looks like?  An affectionate father, ain’t he?  Almost as good as he is a ’usband.  You just listen to me, Jane Snowdon.  If I find out as you’re havin’ money from him, I’ll be revenged on you, mind that!  I’ll be revenged on you!  D’you remember what my hand feels like?  You’ve had it on the side of your ——­’ed often enough.  You just look out for yourself!’

‘And you just turn out of my house,’ cried Bessie, scarlet with wrath.  ’This minute!  Sarah!  Sarah!  Run out by the arey-steps and fetch a p’liceman, this minute!  The idea!’

Clem had said her say, however, and with a few more volleys of atrocious language was content to retire.  Having slammed the door upon her, Bessie cried in a trembling voice: 

’Oh, if only Sam had been here!  My, how I should have liked Sam to have been here! Wouldn’t he have given her something for herself!  Why, such a creature oughtn’t be left loose.  Oh, if Sam had been here!’

Jane had sat down on the stairs; her face was hidden in her hands.  That brutal voice had carried her back to her wretched childhood; everything about her in the present was unreal in comparison with the terrors, the hardships, the humiliations revived by memory.  As she sat at this moment, so had she sat many a time on the cellar-steps at Mrs. Peckover’s.  So powerfully was her imagination affected that she had a feeling as if her hands were grimy from toil, as if her limbs ached.  Oh, that dreadful voice!  Was she never, never to escape beyond hearing of it?

‘Jane, my dear, come into the sitting-room,’ said Bessie ’No wonder it’s upset you.  What can it all mean?’

The meaning was not far to seek; Jane understood everything—­yes, even her father’s hypocrisies.  She listened for a few minutes to her friend’s indignant exclamations, then looked up, her resolve taken.

’Mrs. Byass, I shall take no more money.  I shall go to work again and earn my living.  How thankful I am that I can!’