Mrs. Chalk, noticing his inattention at last, pulled up sharply.
"You're not listening!" she cried.
"Yes, I am; go on, my dear," said Mr. Chalk.
"What did I say she left her last place for, then?" demanded the lady.
Mr. Chalk started. He had been conscious of his wife's voice, and that
was all. "You said you were not surprised at her leaving," he replied,
slowly; "the only wonder to you was that a decent girl should have stayed
there so long."
Mrs. Chalk started and bit her lip. "Yes," she said, slowly. "Ye-es.
Go on; anything else?"
"You said the house wanted cleaning from top to bottom," said the
painstaking Mr. Chalk.
"Go on," said his wife, in a smothered voice. "What else did I say?"
"Said you pitied the husband," continued Mr. Chalk, thoughtfully.
Mrs. Chalk rose suddenly and stood over him. Mr. Chalk tried desperately
to collect his faculties.
"How dare you?" she gasped. "I've never said such things in my life.
Never. And I said that she left because Mr. Wilson, her master, was dead
and the family had gone to London. I've never been near the house; so
how could I say such things?"
Mr. Chalk remained silent.
"What made you think of such things?" persisted Mrs.
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