It was a relief to him when the front door opened and the heavy step of Mr. Dowson was heard in the tiny passage. If anything it seemed heavier than usual, and Mr. Dowson's manner when he entered the room and greeted his guests was singularly lacking in its usual cheerfulness. He drew a chair to the fire, and putting his feet on the fender gazed moodily between the bars.
"I've been wondering as I came along," he said at last, with an obvious attempt to speak carelessly, "whether this 'ere fortune-telling as we've been hearing so much about lately always comes out true."
"It depends on the fortune-teller," said his wife.
"I mean," said Mr. Dowson, slowly, "I mean that gypsy woman that Charlie and Flora went to."
"Of course it does," snapped his wife. "I'd trust what she says afore anything."
"I know five or six that she has told," said Mr. Lippet, plucking up courage; "and they all believe 'er. They couldn't help themselves; they said so."
"Still, she might make a mistake sometimes," said Mr. Dowson, faintly. "Might get mixed up, so to speak."
"Never!" said Mrs. Dowson, firmly.
"Never!" echoed Flora and Mr. Lippet.
Mr. Dowson heaved a big sigh, and his eye wandered round the room. It lighted on Mr. Foss.