In the house she was the same—small, white, and mute. She noticed nothing, she said nothing, only:
"The coffin will be here tonight, Walter. You'd better see about some help." Then, turning to the children: "We're bringing him home."
Then she relapsed into the same mute looking into space, her hands folded on her lap. Paul, looking at her, felt he could not breathe. The house was dead silent.
"I went to work, mother," he said plaintively.
"Did you?" she answered dully.
After half an hour Morel, troubled and bewildered, came in again.
"Wheer s'll we ha'e him when he does come?" he asked his wife.
"In the front room."
"Then I'd better shift th' table?"
"Yes."