I'm glad I've never fallen to bad eggs!" "Sleuth," echoed Bunting, staring at her.

"What a queer name! How d'you spell it--S-l-u-t-h ?" "No," she shot out, "S-l-e--u--t--h." "Oh," he said doubtfully.
"He said, 'Think of a hound and you'll never forget my name,'" and Mrs.Bunting smiled.
When he got to the door, Bunting turned round: "We'll now be able to pay young Chandler back some o' that thirty shillings.

I am glad." She nodded; her heart, as the saying is, too full for words.
And then each went about his and her business--Bunting out into the drenching fog, his wife down to her cold kitchen.
The lodger's tray was soon ready; everything upon it nicely and daintily arranged.

Mrs.Bunting knew how to wait upon a gentleman.
Just as the landlady was going up the kitchen stair, she suddenly remembered Mr.Sleuth's request for a Bible.

Putting the tray down in the hall, she went into her sitting-room and took up the Book; but when back in the hall she hesitated a moment as to whether it was worth while to make two journeys.