ir."

"Yours is always smooth, but do you know, it curls a little."

"Oh, no."

"It does, really, on the temples. Come and look. No, stay there. She'll
be in soon, confound her."

"We ought to be talking sensibly."

"Can we?"

"I can. Shall I put my hat on?"

"No, no, not for one greater than Eliza. I'm afraid of you in a hat. Now
I'll sit here and you can begin your sensible conversation."

"I'm serious, truly. It's about Notya. She's funny, Zebedee. At night I
can hear her walking about her room and she's hardly ever strict. She
doesn't care. I wish you would make her well."

"Will she let me try?"

"I couldn't ask her that because I pretend not to notice. We all do.
She's like a person who--who can't forget. I--don't know."

"I'm sorry, darling."

"Don't be. I'm always afraid of being sorry or glad because you don't
know what will happen. Father leaving us like that, making her
miserable--it's given you to me." She looked up at him. "The world's
difficult."

"Always; but there are times when it is good. Helen--"

Eliza entered, walking heavily in creaking boots, and when Helen looked
at her, she wondered at the tinker. Eliza was hard-featured: she had not
much hair, and on it a cap hung precariously. Spreading a cloth on a
small table, she went about her business slowly, carrying one thing at a
time and leaving the door open as a protest against Helen's presence.

"Who'll pour?" she asked.

"You can leave the table there."

"They were out of sugar cakes. I got buns."

He looked at them. "If that's the best they can do, they ought to be
ashamed of themselves."

"If you want cakes you should get them in the morning. I've kept the
change to pay the milkman."

With a flourish of the cosy Zebedee turned to Helen as the door was
shut.

"Isn't she dreadful?"

"She wants a new pair of boots."

"And a new face."

"I know she doesn't clean the house properly. How often does she sweep
this carpet? It isn't clean, but I wouldn't mind that if she took care
of you."

"Daniel beat her on the supper question. He thought she'd leave rather
than give in, and he was hopeful, but she saw through that. She stuck."

"Isn't she fond of you?" Helen asked wistfully.

"No, darling, we detest each other. Do I put the milk in first?"

"Bring the table to me and I'll do it. Is she honest?"

"Rigidly. I notice that the dishonest are generally pleasing. No, you
can't have the table. It would hide a lot of yo