’Have you heard anything of what’s been goin on with the Hewetts, Miss?’ she began.

’No, I haven’t been able to go out this week.  I’ve had trouble at home.’

‘I see at once as you was in in mournin’, Miss, an’ I’m sorry for it.  You’re lookin’ nothing like yourself.  I don’t know whether it’s right to upset you with other people’s bothers, but there’s that poor Mrs. Hewett in such a state, and I said as I’d run round, ’cause she seems to think there’s nobody else can come to her help as you can.  I always knew as something o’ this kind ’ud be ‘appenin’.’

‘But what is it?  What has happened?’

Jane felt her energies revive at this appeal for help.  It was the best thing that could have befallen, now that she was wearily despondent after yesterday’s suffering.

’Her ‘usband’s dead, Miss.’

‘Dead?’

’But that ain’t the worst of it.  He was took by the perlice last night, which they wanted him for makin’ bad money.  I always have said as it’s a cruel thing that:  ’cause how can you tell who gets the bad coin, an’ it may be some pore person as can’t afford to lose not a ‘apenny.  But that’s what he’s been up to, an’ this long time, as it appears.’

In her dialect, which requires so many words for the narration of a simple story, Mrs. Griffin told what she knew concerning Bob Hewett’s accident and capture; his death had taken place early this morning, and Pennyloaf was all but crazy with grief.  To Jane these things sounded so extraordinary that for some time she could scarcely put a question, but sat in dismay, listening to the woman’s prolix description of all that had come to pass since Wednesday evening.  At length she called for Mrs. Byass, for whose benefit the story was repeated.

‘I’m sure you oughtn’t to go there to-day,’ was Bessie’s opinion.  ‘You’ve quite enough trouble of your own, my dear.’

‘And that’s just what I was a-sayin’, mum,’ assented Mrs. Griffin, who had won Bessie’s highest opinion by her free use of respectful forms of address.  ’I never saw no one look iller, as you may say, than the young lady.’

‘Yes, yes, I will go,’ said Jane, rising.  ’My trouble’s nothing to hers.  Oh, I shall go at once.’

‘But remember your father’s coming at half-past nine,’ urged Bessie, ‘and he said he wanted to speak to you particular.’

’What is the time now?  A quarter to nine.  I can be back by half-past, I think, and then I can go again.  Father wouldn’t mind waiting a few minutes.  I must go at once, Mrs. Byass.’

She would hear no objection, and speedily left the house in Mrs. Griffin’s company.

At half-past nine, punctually, Mr. Snowdon’s double knock sounded at the door.  Joseph looked more respectable than ever in his black frock-coat and silk hat with the deep band.  His bow to Mrs. Byass was solemn, but gallant; he pressed her fingers like a clergyman paying a visit of consolation, and in a subdued voice made affectionate inquiry after his daughter.