Mrs. Menire had provided supper for them. Ralph ate sparingly, and with many pauses. This was not home. He was a stranger in a stranger's house, living on charity. That thought stung him constantly and spoiled his appetite.
He tried to sleep when he got to bed, but the angel was long in coming. His thoughts were too full of other things. The fate of his mother worried him most. How to get her out of the workhouse and find an asylum for her somewhere else was a problem he could not solve. He had been promised work at St. Ivel Mine before his arrest, and he had no doubt that he would still be able to obtain employment there. But no wages would be paid him till the end of the month, and even then it would all be mortgaged for food and clothes.
He slept late next morning, for William had given orders that he was not to be disturbed. He came downstairs feeling a little ashamed of himself. If this was his new start in life, it was anything but an energetic beginning.
William was on the look-out for him, and fetched the bacon and eggs from the kitchen himself.
"We've had our breakfast," he explained. "You won't mind, I hope. We knew you'd be very tired, so we kept the house quiet. I hope you've had a good night, and are feeling all the better. Now I must leave you. We're busy getting out the country orders. You can help yourself, I know." And he disappeared through the frosted glass door into the shop.
He came back half an hour later, just as Ralph was finishing his breakfast, with a telegram in his hand.
"I hope there ain't no bad news," he said, handing Ralph the brick-coloured envelope.
Ralph tore it open in a moment, and his face grew ashen.
He did not speak for several seconds, but continued to stare with unblinking eyes at the pencilled words.
"Is it bad news?" William questioned at length, unable to restrain his curiosity and his anxiety any longer.
"Mother's dead," he answered, in a whisper; and then the telegram slipped from his fingers and fluttered to the floor.
"Your mother found dead in bed. Send instructions _re_ disposal of remains."
"They might have worded the message a little less brutally," William said at length.
"Officialism is nothing if not brutal," Ralph said bitterly.