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 ain''t Sue,'' he says.
''Miss Lilly,'' says the woman before me, quietly. ''Ain''t you just the darling. Are you very tired, dear? You have come quite a journey''
''It ain''t Sue,'' says the boy again, a little louder.
''Change of plan,'' says Richard, not catching my eye. ''Sue stays °n behind, to take care of a few last points.—Mr Ibbs, how are you, sir?''
''Sweet, son,'' the pale man answers. He has taken off his apron and is quieting the dog. The boy who opened the door to us has
gone. The little brazier is cooling and ticking and growing grey. The red-haired girl bends over the screaming babies with a bottle and a spoon, but is still stealing looks at me.
The scowling boy says, ''Change of plan? I don''t get it.'' ''You will,'' answers Richard. ''Unless—'' He puts his finger against his mouth, and winks.
The woman, meanwhile, is still before me, still describing my face with her hands, telling off my features as if they were beads upon a string. ''Brown eyes,'' she says, beneath her breath; her breath is sweet as sugar. ''Pink lips, two pouters. Nice and dainty at the chin. Teeth, white as china. Cheeks—rather soft, I dare say? Oh!''