The house was so still that the sudden noise brought Gerda running into the room⁠—to find him standing by the draught-table.

“What’s the matter with you?” she cried peevishly. “Aren’t you going to help me get supper? Aren’t you even going to wash your hands?”

“So you and Bob were playing draughts? I never knew you even knew the game, Gerda,” he said.

“Come and wash your hands,” she replied in a calm, scolding tone. “I’ve got tomato-soup. It’ll be ready in a minute. I’ll tell you every bit of the gossip about Bob when we’ve sat down! Of course I know draughts. Bob taught me years ago, when I was little. Today I won every single game. I was ‘huffing’ him all the time. But do come, Wolf. I’m hungry. Never mind picking up those things!”

He followed her into the kitchen and stood there, awkwardly and sulkily, till the meal was ready.