This made Sue angrier still, and she bustled about, throwing open the doors, muttering the while that she was ashamed to let visitors into a room that smelt like Pet Salt’s boat and looked like a sty.
Little Red Farran, however, found her in a very different mood, for when he came creeping into the scullery with his kitten (now wellnigh a cat) tucked under his cape, she caught him up in her arms and kissed him and then to his astonishment gave him a large slice of oatmeal cake high-heaped with quince jelly and sent him off on his way rejoicing.
Her charity was well rewarded, for some two minutes later the kitchen door was kicked open and Red and French came in together.
Sue began at once to bustle about with unnatural gaiety, and Gilbot regarded her with still greater astonishment, until he suddenly looked round and saw French. Then he nodded his head sagely once or twice, and, getting up with difficulty, tottered to get his coat which hung behind the door.
“Redsh an’ Ish goin’ foa walk,” he announced.
Red gave a whoop of delight and ran after him happily.
French looked after them in surprise.
“Whatever made him go off like that, now?” he said, as he sat down at the table.
Sue blushed and clanged the pots together noisily.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” she said almost sharply.