The old lady shook her head.
"What—what—is that bill for?" demanded Mr. Davis, jerking his thumb towards it.
"She is thinking of selling the house," said Mrs. Smith. "I let her know you had been, and that is, the result. She won't comeback. You won't see her again."
"Where is she?" inquired Mr. Davis, frowning.
Mrs. Smith shook her head again. "And it would be no use my telling you," she said. "What she has got is her own, and the law won't let you touch a penny of it without her consent. You must have treated her badly; why did you leave her?"
"Why?" repeated Mr. Davis. "Why? Why, because she hit me over the 'ead with a broom-handle."
Mrs. Smith tossed her head.
"Fancy you remembering that for thirty-five years!" she said.
"Fancy forgetting it!" retorted Mr. Davis.
"I suppose she had a hot temper," said the old lady.