Then there comes a kind of chaos.

The dog barks and leaps, the baby in its blanket gives a cry; another baby, that I have not noticed—it lies in a tin box, beneath the table—begins to cry also. Richard takes off his hat and his coat, sets down our bags, and stretches. The scowling boy drops open his mouth and shows the meat within.

It aint Sue, he says.

Miss Lilly, says the woman before me, quietly. Aint you just the darling. Are you very tired, dear? You have come quite a journey

It aint Sue, says the boy again, a little louder.

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