CHAPTER II
THE HOME-COMING
"I say, mother, they've come!"
"Well, let them. What do I care?"
"Oh, but just come and look a minute. See how carefully he is helping her out of the cab. She's a sight too good for him. There! I've got a brilliant idea. I'll go and give them a tune. She shall enter her bridal home to the strains of music," and away downstairs Miss Bessie Marchant rushed. She was the daughter of Mr. Marchant, chemist, Ralph Waring's neighbour.
"What is that girl playing?" exclaimed Mrs. Marchant a few minutes afterwards, as she was preparing supper in the kitchen.
Phill Marchant was sitting at the table working out a sum on his slate. "Why, it's the 'Dead March.' Is her kitten dead?"
"That girl will be the death of me. Bessie, do you hear, stop that noise, will you? Haven't you one spark of human kindness left?"
"No, mother," still going on playing, "I gave all the sparks to Phill."
"Stop playing, will you? or I'll box your ears! It's perfectly cruel. The poor thing will have enough to put up with, without you worrying her with that bad omen."