"Yes, 'm. This morning," said Elsie, and stopped there, not caring to divulge the secret of Mr. Earlforward's insane obstinacy.
"Yes. I'm here. I'm listening. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! She's—— Oh, dear! Owing to what? 'Under-nourishment'?... He's rung off."
Mrs. Belrose sniffed as she hung up the receiver.
"Oh, Elsie! Your poor mistress has died under it. She died about half an hour ago. According to what they say, she might have pulled through, but she hadn't strength to rally owing to—under-nourishment.... Well, I'm that cut up!" Mrs. Belrose cried feebly.
Elsie stared at her and did not weep.
"Ought I to tell him, 'm?"
"Oh, yes, you must tell him. There's no sense in hiding them things—especially as he's a little better. He's got to know. And he'd be very angry, and quite rightly, if he wasn't told, and at once."
"I'll go and tell him."
"Would you like me to come with you?"
"You're very kind, 'm," said Elsie, cunning even in disaster. "I can manage. He's very peculiar, but I know how to manage him. There won't be nothing to be done till to-morrow, anyway."