The mother would have come
herself, but could not walk the distance.
Adela was pierced with compassion.
'I will do my best,' she said, as soon as she could trust her voice.
'I promise you I will do my best.'
She could not say more, and the children evidently hoped she would
have been able to grant their father's pardon forthwith. They had to
be content with Adela's promise, which did not sound very cheerful,
but meant more than they could understand.
She could not do more than give such a promise, and even as she
spoke there was a coldness about her heart. The coldness became a
fear when she met her husband on his return from the works. Richard
was not in the same good temper as at mid-day. He was annoyed to
find Keene in the house--of late he had grown to dislike the
journalist very cordially--and he had heard that the Rendal children
had been to the party, which enraged him. You remember he accused
the man of impudence in addition to the offence of drunkenness.
Rendal, foolishly joking in his cups, had urged as extenuation of
his own weakness the well-known fact that 'Arry Mutimer had been
seen one evening unmistakably intoxicated in the street of Wanley
village. Someone reported these words to Richard, and from that
moment it was all over with the Rendals.
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