The oven took a long time to light. Perhaps it was cold, like herself, and sleepy.... Perhaps it had been dreaming of a little white road with black trees on either side, a little road that led to nowhere. Then the door was pulled violently open and the Man strode in. “Here, what are you doing, sitting on the floor?” he shouted. “Give me my coffee. I’ve got to be off. Ugh! You haven’t even washed over the table.” She sprang to her feet, poured his coffee into an enamel cup, and gave him bread and a knife, then, taking a wash rag from the sink, smeared over the black linoleumed table. “Swine of a day—swine’s life,” mumbled the Man, sitting by the table and staring out of the window at the bruised sky, which seemed to bulge heavily over the dull land. He stuffed his mouth with bread and then swilled it down with the coffee. The Child drew a pail of water, turned up her sleeves, frowning the while at her arms, as if to scold them for being so thin, so much like little stunted twigs, and began to mop over the floor. “Stop sousing about the water while I’m here,” grumbled the Man. “Stop the baby snivelling; it’s been going on like that all night.” The Child gathered the baby into her lap and sat rocking him. “Ts—ts—ts,” she said. “He’s cutting his eye teeth, that’s what makes him cry so. _And_ dribble—I never seen a baby dribble like this one.” She wiped his mouth and nose with a corner of her skirt. “Some babies get their teeth without you knowing it,” she went on, “and some take on this way all the time. I once heard of a baby that died, and they found all its teeth in its stomach.” The Man got up, unhooked his cloak from the back of the door, and flung it round him. “There’s another coming,” said he. “What—a tooth!” exclaimed the Child, startled for the first time that morning out of her dreadful heaviness, and thrusting her finger into the baby’s mouth. “No,” he said grimly, “another baby. Now, get on with your work; it’s time the others got up for school.” She stood a moment quite silently, hearing his heavy steps on the stone passage, then the gravel walk, and finally the slam of the front gate. “Another baby! Hasn’t she finished having them _yet?_” thought the Child. “Two babies getting eye teeth—two babies to get up for in the night—two babies to carry about and wash their little piggy clothes!” She looked with horror at the one in her arms, who, seeming to understand the contemptuous loathing of her tired glance, doubled his fists, stiffened his body, and began violently screaming. “Ts—ts—ts.” She laid him on the settle and went back to her floor-washing. He never ceased crying for a moment, but she got quite used to it and kept time with her broom. Oh, how tired she was! Oh, the heavy broom handle and the burning spot just at the back of her neck that ached so, and a funny little fluttering feeling just at the back of her waistband, as though something were going to break.