"There's Ellery Deakan back from Milford," said
Margaret at the window. "I wonder what he wants at this time of night.
Looks to be somebody with him. Go and see, Mr. Jeminy. I've the
pudding to attend to."
XII
MRS. WICKET
Mrs. Grumble was dying. She lay without moving, one wasted hand
holding tightly to the fingers of Mrs. Wicket, who sat beside the bed.
There, where Mrs. Grumble had worked and scolded for twenty years, all
was still; while the clock on the dresser, like a solemn footstep,
seemed to deepen the silence with its single, hollow beat.
But if it was quiet in the schoolmaster's house, it was far from being
quiet in the village, where Mrs. Tomkins was going hurriedly from house
to house in search of Mrs. Wicket's runaway daughter. Mrs. Wicket, who
was dozing, did not hear the anxious voices calling everywhere for
Juliet. To Mrs. Grumble, the sound was like the dwindling murmur of a
world with which she was nearly done. She felt that her end was
approaching, and remarked:
"I hope I haven't given you too much trouble, Mrs.
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