“There, my dear—now you are introduced,” said Mrs. Bird. “This is my family. I have supported them for many many years, thanks be to God; and I hope that I have managed that, if I should die before them, there will be no need for them to go to the workhouse; so you see I have much to be grateful for. Though they are deaf and dumb, you must not think them stupid, for they can do lots of things—read and write and carve. Oh, we are a very happy family, I can assure you; though at times I want somebody to talk to, and that is one of the reasons why I like to have a lodger—not that the late accountant was much use in that respect, for he was a very gloomy man, though right-thinking. And now that you have seen the surroundings, do you think that you would wish to stay here for a week on trial?” “I should like nothing better,” answered Joan. “Very well, then. Will you come upstairs and see your rooms and wash your hands for supper? I will call the girl, Maria, to help you carry up the box.” Presently Maria arrived. She was a strong, awkward-looking damsel of fifteen, “a workhouse girl,” Mrs. Bird explained, but, like everything else in that house, scrupulously clean in appearance. With her assistance the box was dragged up the narrow stairs, and Joan found herself in the apartments of the late accountant. They were neat little rooms, separated from each other by double doors, and furnished with a horsehair sofa, a round deal table with a stained top, and some old chairs with curly backs and rep-covered seats. “They look a little untidy,” said Mrs. Bird, eyeing these chairs; “but the fact is that the late accountant was a careless man, and often upset his coffee over them. However, I will run you up some chintz covers in no time, and for the sofa too if you like. And now do you think that the rooms will do? You see here is a good cupboard and a chest of drawers.” “Very nicely, thank you,” answered Joan. “I never expected a sitting-room all to myself.” “I am glad that you are pleased. And now I will leave you. Supper will be ready in half an hour—fried eggs and bacon and bread and butter. But if you like anything else I dare say that I can get it for you.” Joan hastened to assure her that eggs and bacon were her favourite food; and, having satisfied herself that there was water in the jug and a clean towel, Mrs. Bird departed, leaving her to unpack. Half an hour later Joan went down and partook of the eggs and bacon. It was an odd meal, with a deaf-and-dumb child pouring out the tea, a deaf-and-dumb giant smiling at her perpetually across the table, and her little hostess attending to them all, and keeping up a double fire of conversation, one with her lips for Joan’s benefit, and one with her head and hands for that of her two “babies.”