“That reminds me,” answered Mrs. Bird; “before I go a step further I must consult my two babies. Now, do you move your chair a little, and sit so. Thank you, that will do.” And she trotted off through some folding doors, one of which she left carefully ajar. Joan could not in the least understand what this odd little person was driving at, nor who her two babies might be, so she sat still and waited. Presently, from the other side of the door, there came a sound as though several people were clapping their hands and snapping their fingers. A pause followed, and the door was pushed a little farther open, apparently that those on the farther side might look into the room where she was sitting. Then there was more clapping and snapping, and presently Mrs. Bird reentered with a smile upon her kind little face. “They like you, my dear,” she said, nodding her head “both of them. Indeed, Sal says that she would much prefer you as a lodger to the late accountant.” “They? Who?” asked Joan. “Well, my dear, when I spoke of surroundings you may have guessed that mine were peculiar; and so they are very peculiar, though harmless. The people in the next room are my husband and my daughter; he is paralytic, and they are both of them deaf and dumb.” “Oh, how sad!” said Joan. “Yes, it is sad; but it might have been much sadder, for I assure you they are not at all unhappy. Now, if I had not married Jim it would have been otherwise, for then he must have gone to the workhouse, or at the best into a home, and of course there would have been no Sal to love us both. But come in, and you shall be introduced to them.” And Mrs. Bird lit a candle and led the way into the small back room. Here Joan saw a curious sight. Seated in an armchair, his withered legs supported on a footstool, was an enormous man of about forty, with flaxen hair and beard, mild blue eyes, and a face like an infant’s, that wore a perpetual smile. Sometimes the smile was more and sometimes it was less, but it was always there. Standing by his side was a sweet and delicate-faced little girl of about twelve; her eyes also were blue and her hair flaxen, but her face was alight with so much fire and intelligence that Joan found it hard to believe that she could be deaf and dumb. Mrs. Bird pointed to her, and struck her hands together this way and that so swiftly that Joan could scarcely follow their movements, whereon the two of them nodded vigorously in answer, and Sal, advancing, held out her hand in greeting. Joan shook it, and was led by her to where Mr. Bird was sitting, with his arm also outstretched. [Illustration: ] ‘There, my dear,’ said Mrs. Bird ... ‘ this is my family.’