Mr. Barrett grinned ruefully.
“Think it over,” said Mr. Jernshaw. “I will,” said the other, heartily.
He walked home deep in thought. He was a kindly man, and he spent some time thinking out the easiest death for Mrs. Barrett. He decided at last upon heart-disease, and a fort-night later all Ramsbury knew of the letter from Australia conveying the mournful intelligence. It was generally agreed that the mourning and the general behaviour of the widower left nothing to be desired.
“She’s at peace at last,” he said, solemnly, to Jernshaw.
“I believe you killed her,” said his friend. Mr. Barrett started violently.
“I mean your leaving broke her heart,” explained the other.
Mr. Barrett breathed easily again.
“It’s your duty to look after the children,” said Jernshaw, firmly. “And I’m not the only one that thinks so.”
“They are with their grandfather and grand-mother,” said Mr. Barrett.
Mr. Jernshaw sniffed.