18 THE SILVER FOX 



natural pallor and tranquil lips spoke of 

 death and resurrection to an audience whose 

 greatest care was to accept in a seemly and 

 gloomy manner as many glasses of whisky 

 as were offered to them. 



His wife's eyes were hollow and glazed 

 from want of sleep ; she stood in her 

 Sunday gown and white cap, receiving 

 condolences without a tear, and with the 

 invariable reply, ** Sure it couldn't be 

 helped." 



She hardly knew whether it were night 

 or day, or how often the evening light in 

 the doorway had turned to blackness, and 

 the blackness quickened to cold blue-grey 

 dawn since they had pulled the feather-bed 

 from under her husband in order that he 

 might, in accordance with ancient custom, 

 breathe his last on the mattress. Her two 

 married daughters dispensed the whisky 

 and the punch at a table near the door ; 

 in the bed-room behind the kitchen the 

 more honourable visitors sat with their hats 

 on, and became sapiently and solemnly tij)sy. 



