When discussing this horrible innovation, Mears had extracted from Mrs. Marsden a distinct show of interest; several times afterwards he had endeavoured to stimulate and increase the interest; and now, just before Christmas, he earnestly implored her to rouse herself.
"We miss you, ma'am, worse every day. It isn't safe to let things drift. We can't get on without you."
Then one morning she had an early breakfast, dressed herself in her shop black, came down behind the glass, took her seat at the little corner table of her old room, and unobtrusively began working.
Marsden, when he came in two or three hours later, was surprised to see her.
"Hullo, Jane, what do you think you are doing?"
"Well, Dick," she said submissively, "I should like to help in the shop—as I used to, you know."
"Bravo. Excellent! I want all the help that anyone can give me;" and he seated himself in the chair of honour. "But look here. Don't mess about with the papers on this desk. I work after a system—and if my papers are muddled, it simply upsets me and wastes my time."