A confused sound of feet approached the house, and there was a knock.
'Come in,' said Bessie.
Three figures appeared, the huge form of Saunders the smith in front,
John and Mary Anne Waller behind.
Saunders took off his cap politely. The sight of his bald head, his double chin, his mouth with its queer twitch, which made him seem as though perpetually about to laugh, if he had not perpetually thought better of it, filled Bessie with angry excitement. She barely nodded to him, in reply to his greeting.
'May we come in, Mrs. Costrell?' Saunders inquired, in his most deliberate voice.
'If yer want to,' said Bessie, shortly, taking out a cup and drying it.
Saunders drew in the other two and shut the door.
'Sit down, John. Sit down, Mrs. Waller.'
John did as he was told. Dishevelled and hopeless misery spoke in his stained face, his straggling hair, his shirt burst open at the neck and showing his wrinkled throat. But he fixed his eyes passionately on Saunders, thirsting for every word.
'Well, Mrs. Costrell,' said Saunders, settling himself comfortably, 'you'll be free to confess, won't yer, this is an oogly business—a very oogly business? Now, will yer let us ask yer a question or two?'