"D'you think we all wants to poke in where we isn't wanted, like you, Miss Meddlesome? How should I know?"
"Well, I told you yesterday what teacher called Edie, so tell us, Rube; you might tell us."
"There isn't nothing to tell, you great inquisitive monkey," Ruby declared.
Then there was a sound in the hall of a man's voice, a rich voice that suited somehow the odor of the cigar. Jenny longed to peep round the kitchen door at the visitor, but she was afraid that Ruby would carry on about it. A moment or two's conversation, and the street door slammed, and when her mother came back from the kitchen, Jenny was afraid to ask bluntly:
"Who was that?"
Instead she announced:
"We did sewing this afternoon. Teacher said I sewed well."
"You sew on with your tea," said Mrs. Raeburn. "And wherever can Edie and Alfie have got to?"
A week or two afterwards Jenny returned to the same smell of cigar, the same impression of a rich and unusual visitor, but this time the parlor door gaped to a dark and cold interior, and when Jenny followed Ruby into the kitchen, he was there, a large florid man, with a big cigar and heavy mustache and a fur coat open to a snowy collar and shining tie-pin.
"And this is Jenny, is it?" he said in the cigar voice.