It was the figure of Humphrey Trail, or “the fat, funny man,” as Vivi spoke of him to Minuit. He gave a little knock on the door and came in, bringing a rush of cold wind with him. He had a bundle in his arms and going over to the table he put it down, yawned, and looked at Vivi. She came slowly toward him, trying not to look too eagerly at the table. Her rough black hair flapped about her face as she pulled up a chair for him. When he had sat down in it, she jumped up on the table beside him. “I told Minuit you would bring something,” she said, smiling at him. He smiled back at her, opening the bundle which was done up in brown paper. “Food we shall have, tha and I and tha friend th’ cat,” said Humphrey, tearing off the paper and bringing forth its contents, a loaf of bread and a hunk of cheese. He felt in his pocket and drawing out his big jackknife, cut a generous slice of the bread and a good supply of cheese. He put the cheese astride the bread and handed it to his little friend with a bow. Vivi nodded her gratitude. She was too busy taking big bites out of the bread and cheese to thank Humphrey in words. He was well pleased at her enjoyment of the simple meal and took his own share with a relish. Minuit was not forgotten either and ate his portion greedily. Humphrey spoke to him apologetically. “Tha shall have tha dish o’ milk one day when milk is easier got, beastie,” he said. Minuit, who had not tasted milk since the days of his infancy, did not seem to be at all put out because of the present lack of the beverage. He jumped up on to the table beside Vivi and began to lick his paws. Humphrey Trail balanced himself uncomfortably on the rickety chair as he ate his supper. He had had only a bowl of hot soup in a small café on the rue Royale at noon, and he was as hungry as his two companions. As he ate he thought deeply and hardly heeded Vivi when she went over to the cot. His French was so limited that they could only hold brief conversations.