ODOUR OF CHRYSANTHEMUMS

The house was quiet. Elizabeth Bates took off her hat
and shawl, and rolled back the rug. When she had finished,
she sat down. It was a few minutes past nine. She was
startled by the rapid chuff of the winding-engine at the pit,
and the sharp whir of the brakes on the rope as it descended.
Again she felt the painful sweep of her blood, and she
put her hand to her side, saying aloud, "Good gracious! -- it's
only the nine o'clock deputy* going down," rebuking herself.

She sat still, listening. Half an hour of this, and she was
wearied out.

"What am I working myself up like this for ?" she said
pitiably to herself, "I s'll only be doing myself some damage."

She took out her sewing again.

At a quarter to ten there were footsteps. One person !
She watched for the door to open. It was an elderly woman,
in a black bonnet and a black woollen shawl -- his mother.
This was a short woman of sixty or thereabouts, pale, with blue
eyes, and her face all shapen to lines of old lament and self-
pity. She shut the door and came straight to her daughter,
putting her old hand on the other's strong, capable hands.

"Eh, Lizzie, whatever shall we do, whatever shall we do !"
she wailed.

Elizabeth drew back a little, sharply.

"What is it, mother ?" she said.

The elder woman went and seated herself on the sofa.
The tears were running down the furrows which her old laments
had left.

"I don't know, child, I can't tell you !" -- she shook her
head slowly and with despair. Elizabeth sat watching her,
anxious and vexed.

"I don't know," replied the grandmother, sighing very
deeply. "There's no end to my troubles, there isn't. The
things I've gone through, and now this ---- !" She wept
without wiping her eyes, the tears running freely.

"But mother," interrupted Elizabeth decisively. "What
have you come to tell me ? Let me know !"

The grandmother slowly wiped her eyes. The loose foun-
tains of her tears were stopped by Elizabeth's sharpness. She
wiped her eyes slowly.

"Poor child ! Eh, you poor thing !" she wailed. "I don't
know what we're going to do, I don't -- and you as you are --
it's an awful thing, it is indeed an awful thing !"

Elizabeth waited.

"Is he dead ? " she asked, and at the words her heart swung

425