At home Nancy found Letizia in a tremendous state of excitement after her visit to the circus which had concluded with an introduction to Mr. Kino’s elephants. “And I touched Jumbo’s trunk, muvver, and it was all hot. And he wagged his tail. And Mrs. Jumbo opened her mouf as wide as that.” Here Letizia endeavoured to give an elephantine yawn to illustrate her story. “Yes, she took to my elephants,” said Mr. Kino. “In fact, I was nearly offering her an engagement to appear with them.” Nancy laughed. “No, I’m serious, Miss O’Finn. What do you say to three pounds a week? And, of course, the missus and I would look after the kid as if she was our own.” “Och, no, it’s very sweet of you both, but I couldn’t give her up like that.” “Arthur’s joking about the performing part,” Mrs. Kino put in. “He knows very well I wouldn’t let her do any performing. But we would like to have her with us when we leave on Sunday week.” “You’re leaving on Sunday week?” Nancy asked in alarm. “Yes, we’re going out on a long tour.” Nancy was terribly worried by the prospect of her fellow lodgers’ departure. It would mean asking Miss Fewkes to look after Letizia while she was out. In her bedroom she counted over the money she had left. Only seven pounds, and out of that there would be this week’s bill to pay. Things _were_ getting desperate. Until now Nancy had avoided meeting her father in London, because she felt that she could not bear the scene he would be sure to play over her widowhood. Her life with Bram was too real and wonderful for histrionics. But matters were now so serious that she could not afford to let her own intimate feelings stand in the way of getting work. Her father might be able to help her to an engagement. He might even be able to lend her a little money in case of absolute necessity. So Nancy sent a note to the Piccadilly Theatre, where he was playing, and three days later she received an answer from an address in Earl’s Court to say that owing to severe illness he had had to resign his part at the Piccadilly a week or two before. Would Nancy visit him, as he was still too unwell to go out? “Mr. O’Finn?” repeated the slatternly girl who opened the door. “Can you see Mr. O’Finn? Who is it, please?” “It’s his daughter, Miss O’Finn.” The slatternly girl opened her eyes as wide as their sticky lids would let her. “He’s not expecting anybody this afternoon,” she muttered. “He may not be expecting anybody this afternoon,” said Nancy sharply, “but his daughter is not exactly anybody. He has been ill and I want to see him.” The slatternly girl evidently felt incapable of dealing with this crisis, for she retreated to the head of the basement stairs, and called down: “Mrs. Tebbitt, here’s somebody wants to see Mr. O’Finn. Will you come up and talk to her, please?” A sacklike woman with a flaccid red face and sparse hair excavated herself slowly from the basement. “I understand my father has been very ill,” Nancy began.