“It must boil in time,” protested Crefton, ignoring the suggestions of foul influences. “Perhaps the coal is damp.”

“It won’t boil in time for supper, nor for breakfast tomorrow morning, not if you was to keep the fire a-going all night for it,” said Mrs. Spurfield. And it didn’t. The household subsisted on fried and baked dishes, and a neighbour obligingly brewed tea and sent it across in a moderately warm condition.

“I suppose you’ll be leaving us, now that things has turned up uncomfortable,” Mrs. Spurfield observed at breakfast; “there are folks as deserts one as soon as trouble comes.”