She brought the stranger， who seemed ill at ease， into theroom. He gazed at her furtively， and listened in a preoccupiedfashion as the old lady apologized for the appearance of theroom， and her husband’s coat， a garment which he usuallyreserved for the garden. She then waited as patiently as her sexwould permit， for him to broach his business， but he was atfirst strangely silent.
“I—was asked to call，” he said at last， and stooped andpicked a piece of cotton from his trousers. “I come from ‘Mawand Meggins.’”
The old lady started. “Is anything the matter？” she asked，breathlessly. “Has anything happened to Herbert？ What is it？
What is it？”
Her husband interposed. “There， there， mother，” he said，hastily. “Sit down， and don’t jump to conclusions. You’venot brought bad news， I’m sure， sir；” and he eyed the otherwistfully.
“I’m sorry—” began the visitor.
“Is he hurt？” demanded the mother， wildly.
The visitor bowed in assent. “Badly hurt，” he said， quietly，“but he is not in any pain.”
“Oh， thank God！” said the old woman， clasping her hands.
“Thank God for that！ Thank—”
She broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of theassurance dawned upon her and she saw the awful confirmationof her fears in the other’s perverted face. She caught her breath，and turning to her slower-witted husband， laid her tremblingold hand upon his. There was a long silence.
“He was caught in the machinery，” said the visitor at lengthin a low voice.
“Caught in the machinery，” repeated Mr. White， in a dazedfashion， “yes.”
He sat staring blankly out at the window， and taking hiswife’s hand between his own， pressed it as he had been wontto do in their old courting-days nearly forty years before.
“He was the only one left to us，” he said， turning gently tothe visitor. “It is hard.”
The other coughed， and rising， walked slowly to the window.
“The firm wished me to convey their sincere sympathy withyou in your great loss，” he said， without looking round. “I begthat you will understand I am only their servant and merelyobeying orders.”
There was no reply； the old woman’s face was white， hereyes staring， and her breath inaudible； on the husband’s facewas a look such as his friend the sergeant might have carriedinto his first action.
“I was to say that Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility，”
continued the other. “They admit no liability at all， but inconsideration of your son’s services， they wish to present youwith a certain sum as compensation.”
Mr. White dropped his wife’s hand， and rising to his feet，gazed with a look of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shapedthe words， “How much？”
“Two hundred pounds，” was the answer.
Unconscious of his wife’s shriek， the old man smiled faintly，put out his hands like a sightless man， and dropped， a senselessheap， to the floor.
III
In the huge new cemetery， some two miles distant， the oldpeople buried their dead， and came back to a house steeped inshadow and silence. It was all over so quickly that at first theycould hardly realize it， and remained in a state of expectationas though of something else to happen —something else whichwas to lighten this load， too heavy for old hearts to bear.
But the days passed， and expectation gave place toresignation—the hopeless resignation of the old， sometimesmiscalled， apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word，for now they had nothing to talk about， and their days werelong to weariness.
It was about a week after that the old man， waking suddenlyin the night， stretched out his hand and found himself alone.
The room was in darkness， and the sound of subdued weepingcame from the window. He raised himself in bed and listened.
“Come back，” he said， tenderly. “You will be cold.”
“It is colder for my son，” said the old woman， and weptafresh.
The sound of her sobs died away on his ears. The bed waswarm， and his eyes heavy with sleep. He dozed fitfully， andthen slept until a sudden wild cry from his wife awoke himwith a start.
“The paw！” she cried wildly. “The monkey’s paw！”
He started up in alarm. “Where？ Where is it？ What’s thematter？”
She came stumbling across the room toward him. “I wantit，” she said， quietly. “You’ve not destroyed it？”
“It’s in the parlour， on the bracket，” he replied， marvelling.
“Why？”
She cried and laughed together， and bending over， kissed hischeek.
“I only just thought of it，” she said， hysterically. “Why didn’tI think of it before？ Why didn’t you think of it？”
“Think of what？” he questioned.
“The other two wishes，” she replied， rapidly.
“We’ve only had one.”
“Was not that enough？” he demanded， fiercely.
“No，” she cried， triumphantly； “We’ll have one more. Godown and get it quickly， and wish our boy alive again.”
The man sat up in bed and flung the bedclothes from hisquaking limbs. “Good God， you are mad！” he cried， aghast.
