"No, but one of the letters was from him. At least, it wasn't a letter."
"A document of some kind?"
"No, a poem."
"Oh. Did you understand it?"
"No, but it made quite a nice sound."
"So do bicycle bells."
He thought she laughed a little. "It is nice to have poems made to one's eyebrows," she said. "But still nicer to have one's wall made clean. I do thank you for that-you and what's-their-names-Bill and Stanley. If you want to be very kind perhaps you would bring or send us some food tomorrow?"
"Food!" he said, horrified that he had not thought of that before; that was what happened when you lived a life where Aunt Lin put everything down in front of you, all but put the stuff in your mouth; you lost your capacity for imagination. "Yes, of course. I forgot that you would not be able to shop."
"It isn't only that. The grocer's van that calls on Monday didn't come today. Or perhaps," she added hastily, "it came and just couldn't call our attention. Anyhow, we should be so grateful for some things. Have you got a pencil there?"
She gave him a list of things, and then asked: "We didn't see today's Ack-Emma. Was there anything about us?"