“Four days. That’s why I sent the letter.” “Have you got any--anything to eat?” “That’s why I sent the letter. That’s why they keep squalling all the time.” “I’ll be back before dark,” Pidge said, turning into the hall. “You’ll--sure--come--back?” “Sure,” called Pidge. She returned with her arms full of groceries, and went home promising to come back the next afternoon. * * * * * “... Bring them here. There is no other way,” Miss Claes said. “But they’re not clean!” Pidge moaned. “They are too sick to keep clean.” “We can freshen them up a little,” said Miss Claes. “But there’s nothing Fanny can do, unless the two children are taken from her. I mean she’s held to the room with them now, and they’ve been crying so long that they can’t stop. They both cry at once, and she doesn’t hear them; they look and listen for a second and then go on crying. If one stops, he hears the other. The place smelled like a sty, and the packages of food I brought got wet and spoiled before they were opened.” “Forget about them until to-morrow, Pidge, and then get a taxicab and bring them here. I’ve got a second-floor room toward the back.” XVIII AN OUTER CHANGE MISS CLAES standing by the table in her own room heard a step upon an upper stairway; not on the immediate basement stairs, but of one descending from the second to the first landing. The tread was deliberate. She heard it now in the hall directly above. Miss Claes moved to the door, her hand against her cheek; then back to stand by the table again. Now the step was on the basement stairs. A fire was burning in her grate, and that was the main light of the room, for the winter morning was very gray. The table was prepared for one--plate and cup of ruddy gold, a cutting of white hyacinth in a purple vase. The footsteps approached in the basement hall; a heavy bag was placed down outside Miss Claes’ door; then Nagar appeared, a dark hat and an overcoat upon his arm. He came forward, and the two stood together for a moment. “At least this once, I can serve you,” Miss Claes said. Nagar smiled as he sat down to the table. Miss Claes went into the kitchen and presently brought a pot of tea in a Chinese basket and a covered dish. She filled a goblet from the water bottle, and stood behind his chair while Nagar ate. The house was strangely silent. Nagar arose. They stood together again for a moment by the mantel. He spoke in Hindi, and she listened, like one already weary, hearing of more things to do. Not until she smiled, did he turn away. She did not follow to the door, nor look toward the window, as he passed up the steps to the street. After a long time, she stepped to the cabinet for a cigarette and lit it standing by the fireplace. XIX FANNY DRIES HER TEARS