in conversation. Human agency was implied, and all that talk of
strawberry-beds and cabbage leaves so much trickery. Alfie, bad habits
and all, was due to her father and mother being married.

But why be married when Alfies were the result? Why not close the door
against her father and be rid of him? And take somebody else in
exchange? Who was there? Nobody.

One foggy afternoon early in January, Jenny came back from school to the
smell of a good cigar. She did not know it was a good cigar, but the
perfume hung about the dark hall of Number Seventeen with a strange
richness never associated in her mind with the smell of her father's
smoke. She was conscious, too, from the carefully closed doors both of
the parlor and the kitchen, that company was present. The voice of a
polite conscience warned her not to bang about, not to shout "Is tea
ready, mother?" but rather to tread discreetly the little distance to
the kitchen and there to await developments. If Alfie and Edie were
already arrived by a punctual chance, she would learn from them the
manner and kind of the company hid in the parlor.

The kitchen was empty. No tea was laid. Over her stole an extraordinary
sensation of misgiving. She felt as if she were standing at the foot of
a ladder watching Alfie about some mischievous business.

Presently Ruby returned from the scullery, like a sudden draught.

"However did you get in so quiet?" asked the newcomer. Then Jenny
remembered the street door had been open.

"Who's in along of mother?"

"That's right. Be nosey."

"Tell us, Rube."

"I can't tell what I don't know."

"But you do know," persisted Jenny; "so tell us."

"D'you think we all wants to poke in where we isn't wanted, like you,
Miss Meddlesome? How should I know?"

"Well, I told you yesterday what teacher called Edie, so tell us, Rube;
you might tell us."

"There isn't nothing to tell, you great inquisitive monkey," Ruby
declared.

Then there was a sound in the hall of a man's voice, a rich voice that
suited somehow the odor of the cigar. Jenny longed to peep round the
kitchen door at the visitor, but she was afraid that Ruby would carry on
about it. A moment or two's conversation, and the street door slammed,
and when her mother came back from the kitchen, Jenny was afraid to ask
bluntly:

"Who was that?"

Instead she announced:

"We did sewing this afternoon. Teacher said I sewed well."

"You sew on with your tea," said Mrs. Raeburn. "