The family in Lower West consisted of a man, a woman and a child. A week after they moved in, the woman’s sister came to stay with her. She was straight from hospital and brought a new-born infant with her–a puny, frail thing, that the doctor shook his head over. Immediately the baby’s grandma was sent for, being, they declared, the only person who could possibly pull the baby through. Grandma could not leave…
“PRICE of flat?” “Twenty-five a month.” “Take twenty?” “No.” “Twenty-two?” “No.” “Quiet house? No children? No musical instruments? No mice? My folks is partic’lar, awful partic’lar–awful clean! … They’s out huntin’ too-maybe they’s found somethin’ at twenty. Consider twenty-three?” “No. Twenty-five is my price, take it or leave it.” He went back to pinch the mattress again, threw himself into an easy chair and moulded his back into the cushions. …”Comfortable chair! Well, guess…
Arabella Jones ran out of the back door, around the house and into the front door of her flat. Over and over she did it. Each time she rang her own door bell and opened her own front door and walked in with a laugh as if such a delightful thing had never happened to her before. “It is half like having a house of my own,” she said, and rushed into the garden…