“That’ll be all right,” Spender replied, kindly, “unless there’s vermin—”
Lovey jumped.
“See here, now! Don’t you begin no such immodest talk to me.”
“There, there, Lovikins,” Pyn broke in. “Spender don’t mean no harm. All sorts have to come to a place like this. But when we see a gentleman we treat him like a gentleman. All Spender wants to know is this, Is it eats for you first, or a bath?”
“And I don’t want no bath,” Lovey declared, proudly.
“Then it’ll be eats. Quick march! I’ve got to beat it back to my job.”
Pyn’s introduction of us to those already in the dining-room was simple.
“This is Lovey. This is Slim. You guys’ll make ’em feel at home.”
Making us feel at home consisted in moving along the table so as to give us room. In words there was no response to Pyn, who withdrew at once, nor was there more than a cursory inspection of us with the eyes. Whatever was kindly was in the atmosphere, and that was perceptible.
As we sat before two empty places, one of our new companions rose, went to the dresser behind us, and brought us each a plate, a spoon, a knife, and a cup and saucer. A big man went to the kitchen door and in a voice like thunder called out, “Mouse!”