Ralph was so sure that the person who knocked was Miss Jones, that he opened his door wide, standing aside to let her pass in with the expected tray; and the visitor did pass in, but there was no tray, and, to his horror, it was Mrs. Short! Taking advantage of his mistake, she waddled up the little hall as fast as her rapidly increasing size would permit, and was actually in the little parlour before Ralph had recovered his senses. He rushed after her, and found her embracing Ruth with every appearance of affection.
"You poor, unfortunate, ill-used child!" she panted out. "To think that to-day, of all the days in the year, I should have gone to Derby to buy a warm shawl; for as to choice of colours, there's no such thing at Price's, but dum-ducketty-mud colour and greys, that looks like poorhouse folk. My 'art bleeds for you, Ruth Golong. I'm that good-natured, I never could bear malice. I know you behaved rude-like when you turned me out, as one may say, when Mr. Trulock was so bad. But truly he was over the worst of it by that time, and so it did him no harm getting a unexperienced nuss instead of me. But there, I forgive and forget, Ruth, my dear. I'm full of sympathy with you. And now tell me all about it. I'm told the wicked old creetur beat you and half killed Ollie, and then killed herself a-purpose; is that true, child? Is it true, Ruth Golong? Can't you speak, child?"
"Ruth," said Ralph, "I think this noise may waken Ollie; you'd better go and have a look at him."
"Mrs. Short," continued Ralph, "there will be an inquest to-morrow, and Ruth will be the principal witness. So she must not be talked to about the matter now. And Ollie has the measles, ma'am; did you ever have them?"
"Oh yes, when I was a little gel."
"I've known several people have them a second time," remarked Ralph thoughtfully; "and they go hard with people of a full habit, and not so young as they have been."
Mrs. Short grew red with fear and anger mixed. "Good evening," said she, "and I only hope you won't take 'em yourself, Mr. Trulock; for full habit or no full habit, you're little or no better than a walking skelington, and can't have it in you to throw out a rash handsome."
With this cutting remark she tossed her head and left the house, Ralph laughing to himself as she disappeared. Before he could call Ruth down again, Miss Jones and her tray made their appearance, and Ruth was kissed and fed and put to bed, with the utmost tenderness, to a running accompaniment of scolding that was wonderful to listen to.
The inquest took place next day. Ralph took Ruth to the house, and Miss Jones sat with Ollie during their absence. Ruth's evidence was given with such modest self-possession, and was so clear and plain, that it did not matter that no one else could give any evidence at all, except to the fact that the woman was dead. The verdict was "Died of alcoholic poisoning;" and then the inquest was over, and nothing remained but for the parish authorities to bury the poor remains of one who had once been a kind-hearted, honest, hard-working woman. Ruth had spoken so gratefully of her kindness, that the memory of a time when Mrs. Cricklade was a pleasant neighbour was revived among the listeners, and one woman said, as they all watched the funeral going up the hill next morning,—
"Poor soul! She was a good creetur, for sure,—a kind body; no fault but the drink."