"I don't care for her very much, though I must say that so long as you locks up yer things, and don't take notice of what she says or does when she's drunk, she's always quite the lady."
Mavis, for all her growing weariness, smiled.
"Do you know why I reely come here?" asked the "permanent." "'Cause I love Piggy's son, Oscar. Oh, he is that comic! He do make me laugh so, I never can see enough of him. Don't you love looking at Oscar?"
Mavis shook her head.
"Don't you think him comic?"
"No," whispered Mavis.
"Go h'on! But there, I nearly forgot!"
The "permanent" left the room, at which Mavis closed her eyes, thankful for a few moments' peace.
"Take this cornflour," said a voice at her elbow: the "permanent" had brought her a basinful of this food. "I made it meself, 'cause Piggy always burns it, an' Oscar puts his fingers in it."
"You're very kind," murmured Mavis.