"Where do you sleep?" Aileen asked nim, studying her new henchman gravely.
"In me room."
"But where? Not in the house?" with a swift fear.
"Over there." He jerked his head towards the outer world. It was characteristic of Horrors that he never used two words where one would do.
"There's a buggy-shed, with a lean-to attached that forms Horrors' sleeping-bower," Tom told his wife. "I told him to clean it out before we came."
"Did," said Horrors.
"H'm," said Tom. "Pity you didn't clean the kitchen, too. Well, we'll get in these boxes."
They carried them in, placing them so that they could be conveniently unpacked. Aileen dragged out bedclothes and garments and made the bed by the light of the candle-end, now nearly exhausted. She was not used to the task: it would not have been considered a well-made bed. But it looked rather like heaven to her when it was finished.
Tom came in, to find her rooting wearily in a trunk.
"I wish I could have helped you," he said anxiously. "What are you looking for, now?"