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While this search was being carried on, those left in the house were in no cheerful mood. They all repaired to the kitchen, as the windows there afforded a view of the path leading to the creek. Each lady in her own way tried to bring comfort and consolation to the worried mother. Mrs. Bliggins gave a long graphic account of the loss of her cousin, Mrs. Snoop’s husband, at sea. Mr. Augustus Snoop, it transpired, had sailed away one summer morning on the good ship “Wanderer,” with Australia as his goal. The story was somewhat elliptical, but the hearers could gather that before Mr. Snoop’s departure there had been a huge caldron of trouble brewing on the domestic hearth. Unfortunately, the ship in which Mr. Snoop sailed had after many weeks been reported missing, and Mrs. Snoop had donned sombre garments in honor of the departed. She had found some slight consolation in telling her friends of her late husband’s many excellent qualities and of his unrivalled devotion to her. She would wipe away the gushing tears with her black-bordered handkerchief as she recounted how her dear Augustus had been so careful and considerate of her and had even been known to turn the clothes-wringer for her. True, she had taken in washing for some years to keep the family larder filled, but her dear husband had felt so much concerned about it that during that whole time he had not been equal to doing any work himself. The sorrowing widow had felt certain that from his home of heavenly bliss the loving Augustus, whenever he could be spared from his other duties, was daily and hourly watching his adored wife now living frugally but peacefully on his life insurance money. “My father didn’t let my mother work when he was alive; but he—he died.” Billy bent lower over his weeding, and both were quiet. CHAPTER XIII THE HIDDEN HUT.

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“Here, here! You mustn’t do that,” Billy gently coaxed, rising and taking her hand. “You’ll make me draw salt water, too. And it don’t help, you know. I’ll tell you what—you can work some, gather the flowers. I’ll show you how. Mother puts ’em fresh in all the rooms for Sunday.” He bustled her up the terrace steps, brought scissors and basket, and, starting her on her pleasant task, began to mow the lawn. The frenzied cries of the child were distinctly audible in the kitchen where sat Mrs. Mifsud and Mrs. Wopp, the latter busily engaged in mending a pile of socks. Both ladies sprang to their feet and hurried through the open door towards the garden, Mrs. Wopp still wearing a half-darned sock on her left hand and scattering others as she ran. They were followed by Betty, who had been filling her watering-can from the rain-barrel and had also heard the cries of the frightened child. “Orl right, Mar,” answered Moses, dutifully, his mouth watering in anticipation of the goodies in prospect. Mrs. Wopp viewed with misgiving the ornate writing not yet erased from the previous lesson. She feared her own handwriting would suffer by comparison..