The Lodger

Robert Bunting and Ellen his wife sat before their dully burning, carefully-banked-up fire. The room, especially when it be known that it was part of a house standing in a grimy, if notexactly sordid, London thoroughfare, was exceptionally clean and well-cared-for. A casualstranger, more particularly one of a Superior class to their own, on suddenly opening thedoor of that sitting-room; would have thought that Mr. and Mrs. Bunting presented a verypleasant cosy picture of comfortable married life. Bunting, who was leaning back in a deepleather arm-chair, was clean-shaven and dapper, still in appearance what he had been formany years of his life-a self-respecting man-servant. On his wife, now sitting up in an uncomfortable straight-backed chair, the marks of pastservitude were less apparent; but they were there all the same-in her neat black stuffdress, and in her scrupulously clean, plain collar and cuffs. Mrs. Bunting, as a single woman, had been what is known as a useful maid