Miriam entered with several parcels in a net, and a peevish expression. "Mother," she said, "you might '_ave_ prevented my going out with the net with the broken handle. I've been cutting my fingers with the string all the way 'ome." Then she discovered Mr. Polly and her face brightened. "Ello, Elfrid!" she said. "Where you been all this time?" "Looking round," said Mr. Polly. "Found a shop?" "One or two likely ones. But it takes time." "You've got the wrong cups, Mother." She went into the kitchen, disposed of her purchases, and returned with the right cups. "What you done to your face, Elfrid?" she asked, and came and scrutinised his scratches. "All rough it is." He repeated his story of the accident, and she was sympathetic in a pleasant homely way. "You are quiet to-day," she said as they sat down to tea. "Meditatious," said Mr. Polly. Quite by accident he touched her hand on the table, and she answered his touch. "Why not?" thought Mr. Polly, and looking up, caught Mrs. Larkins' eye and flushed guiltily. But Mrs. Larkins, with unusual restraint, said nothing. She merely made a grimace, enigmatical, but in its essence friendly. Presently Minnie came in with some vague grievance against the manager of the carpet-making place about his method of estimating piece work. Her account was redundant, defective and highly technical, but redeemed by a certain earnestness. "I'm never within sixpence of what I reckon to be," she said. "It's a bit too 'ot." Then Mr. Polly, feeling that he was being conspicuously dull, launched into a description of the shop he was looking for and the shops he had seen. His mind warmed up as he talked. "Found your tongue again," said Mrs. Larkins. He had. He began to embroider the subject and work upon it. For the first time it assumed picturesque and desirable qualities in his mind. It stimulated him to see how readily and willingly they accepted his sketches. Bright ideas appeared in his mind from nowhere. He was suddenly enthusiastic. "When I get this shop of mine I shall have a cat. Must make a home for a cat, you know." "What, to catch the mice?" said Mrs. Larkins. "No--sleep in the window. A venerable _signor_ of a cat. Tabby. Cat's no good if it isn't tabby. Cat I'm going to have, and a canary! Didn't think of that before, but a cat and a canary seem to go, you know. Summer weather I shall sit at breakfast in the little room behind the shop, sun streaming in the window to rights, cat on a chair, canary singing and--Mrs. Polly...." "Ello!" said Mrs. Larkins. "Mrs. Polly frying an extra bit of bacon. Bacon singing, cat singing, canary singing. Kettle singing. Mrs. Polly--" "But who's Mrs. Polly going to be?" said Mrs. Larkins.