‘Inside of them, my love?’ cooed the landlady. ‘There’s bunny rabbits inside of them, and lovely pieces of bacon in a jelly that would stand by itself. You’ll see what’s inside of them soon!’ She laughed happily and then, tying another knot in her apron-string, explained to Mary that the rabbit pies of the Harley Arms were an institution on the eve of Bron Fair. ‘We used to make as many as thirty of them,’ she said, ‘but the fair’s not what it was in those days. Still, they must have their pies. They’d drop down dead if they came into the room and never see them! There they are, waiting ready for them: pies and ham and bread and cider, and they helps themselves. We’re too busy to look after them. They takes what they want, and pays the same whether its much or little. That’s the custom, you see.’ By this time the concentration of rich smells had overcome Morgan’s interest. ‘I want to lie down, mam,’ he said, and Mary stopped the landlady in a flood of reminiscence to inquire again about their room before disaster came. ‘Well, now,’ she said in a more kindly, mysterious voice. ‘I’ll tell you what do. I’ll put you in Mr Prowse’s room without asking him. That’s the best way. If you’re there, you’re there, and that’s the end of it. You can put the little girl on the sofa and the little boy can sleep in between the two of you. ’Tis a fine, old-fashioned bed. A family bed, as the saying is.’ Abner saw Mary go red. He came quickly to the rescue. ‘We’re not man and wife, missus,’ he said. ‘What! You’re not a married couple? That’s different altogether,’ said the landlady, her tone hardening. ‘This young man only came along with me to help me with the children,’ Mary explained. ‘I’ve kept this place respectable all my life, and I don’t intend to start anything different,’ said the landlady severely. ‘I think you’d better look somewhere else.’ Mary, half shocked, half frightened, would have taken the children away at once. ‘Come along, Abner,’ she said. But Abner would not be beaten. ‘Look here, missus,’ he said to the landlady. ‘If we wasn’t respectable, we could have took you in, and you been none the wiser. I’m here looking after this young woman. There’s nothing else between us. If there was I should have codded you we was married.’ ‘Don’t, Abner!’ said Mary. The landlady looked from one to the other of this strange couple. Morgan began to whimper, and the sight of the child’s tiredness melted her heart. ‘You’d better come on upstairs,’ she said to Mary, and then, with a defiant glance at Abner: ‘But the young man will have to look out for himself. There’s no bed here I can give him. My husband and the boys’ll have to sleep in the loft as it is. I oughtn’t to take you in, by rights, and that’s the truth.’ ‘Never you mind me,’ said Abner. ‘It won’t hurt me to sleep rough.’