kind of mines dear friends want his money to put into. The late Captain Crewe—”
Here Miss Minchin stopped him with a gasp.
“The LATE Captain Crewe!” she cried out. “The LATE! You don’t come to tell me that Captain Crewe is—”
“He’s dead, ma’am,” Mr. Barrow answered with jerky brusqueness. “Died of jungle fever and business troubles combined. The jungle fever might not have killed him if he had not been driven mad by the business troubles, and the business troubles might not have put an end to
little thing who had just taken the place of scullery maid— though, as to being scullery maid, she was everything else besides. She blacked boots and grates, and carried heavy coal-scuttles up and down stairs, and scrubbed floors and cleaned windows, and was ordered about by everybody. She was fourteen