With her own hand she laid Martha in her last bed and disposed its one garment about the rigid little limbs.

She neither spoke nor wept for Ah! in her sad soul she knew that never day or night or man or God could bring her child back to her.

And she remembered that once she had said in an evil moment that this dear, dead child was "one too many." Would God ever forgive her?
By a late train that night they left for Hatton Hall, reaching the village about the time for the mill to open.

No bell summoned its hands to cheerful work.

They were standing at various points, and when the small white coffin went up the hill, they silently followed, softly singing.