“We’ve hardly seen you all winter. Will you come in and look at the baby?”

“Well!” Connie hesitated. “Just for a minute.”

Mrs. Flint flew wildly in to tidy up, and Connie came slowly after her, hesitating in the rather dark kitchen where the kettle was boiling by the fire. Back came Mrs. Flint.

“I do hope you’ll excuse me,” she said. “Will you come in here.”

They went into the living-room, where a baby was sitting on the rag hearthrug, and the table was roughly set for tea. A young servant-girl backed down the passage, shy and awkward.