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He had purposely avoided seeing Mrs. Clutters' body ... something in the thought of death repelled him and made him reluctant to look at a corpse, and so, when he had been asked if he would like to see Mrs. Clutters, he had made some evasive reply. It had been different when his father died.

That's what it's supposed to be, sir!" Magnolia replied dubiously. "It's a bad imitation, Magnolia!" Gilbert said. "I think I'll just have bread and marmalade this morning!" He reached for the marmalade as he spoke, and Henry, eyeing the eggs with disrelish, murmured, "After you, Gilbert!" "Tell Mrs. Clutters I want her," Roger said to Magnolia.

Much had happened to them in the two years that had elapsed since the day on which Gilbert carried Henry off to Dublin. The Bloomsbury household had come to an end. Suddenly and, as it seemed to them, inexplicably, Mrs. Clutters had died. It had never occurred to any of them that Mrs. Clutters could die. They seldom saw her. The kitchen was her domain, and Magnolia was her messenger.

If they had informed her that the Judgment Day was to begin that afternoon at three o'clock, Magnolia, they felt sure, would say, "Yes, sir, certainly, sir!" and go on with her work.... There seemed to be no adequate excuse for Mrs. Clutters' death ... "an' everythink goin' on so nice an' all!" as Magnolia said ... and yet she had died.

Clutters telling her that he would not be in to dinner, and then, climbing on to a 'bus, had allowed himself to be carried eastwards, not knowing or caring whither he was being carried. He paid no heed to the other passengers on the 'bus, nor did he interest himself in the traffic of the streets.

He knew that it was useless to attempt to do any work that morning, so he left his room and, telling Mrs. Clutters that he would not return to lunch, went out of the house and wandered about the streets for a while without any purpose. It was not until he saw the sign on a passing motor-'bus that he decided on what he should do.

Out of this chaos order must be evolved, and the evolution may be satisfactory in every way if we only begin right. The first thing to do is to clear away all the rubbish that clutters up the place. Do not make the mistake of dumping bits of wood into hollows with the idea that you are making a good foundation for a lawn-surface.

If one should happen to be a house-psychologist, one would know that behind the Nottingham lace curtains looped back with soiled red ribbons, was all the tawdry, horrible junk that clutters such houses, even as mental junk clutters the minds of the people who have to live in them.

Clutters' husband insisted on seeing them after the funeral because, he said, he wished to thank them for all they had done for "'er!" He made a jerk over his shoulder with his thumb when he said "'er," and they gathered that he was indicating the direction of Kensal Green cemetery. He was very maudlin and drunk, and Ninian thought that he ought to be kicked.

Some of them, impelled by a creative impulse which will not be denied, avoid industry altogether and demand that their ambitious parents give them lessons in "china painting" and "art work," which clutters the overcrowded parlor of the more prosperous workingman's home with useless decorated plates, and handpainted "drapes," whereas the plates upon the table and the rugs upon the floor used daily by thousands of weary housewives are totally untouched by the beauty and variety which this ill-directed art instinct might have given them had it been incorporated into industry.