She stared upon Cuckoo with amazement.
"What ever," she began, her voice croaky with interrogation. "Are you
ill? What are you back for?"
"I'm all right," said Cuckoo crossly. "Leave me alone, do."
She turned into her sitting-room. Mrs. Brigg followed, open-mouthed.
"Ain't you a-goin' out ag'in?"
"No; oh do leave off starin'. What's the matter with you?"
Mrs. Brigg heaved a thick sigh and shuffled round upon her heels, which
made a noise upon the oilcloth like the boots of the comic man at a
music-hall.
"Well," she said with a sudden grimness, "I hope it'll be all right about
the rent, that's all."
She vanished, shaking her head, on which a stray curl-paper, bereft of
its comrades of the morning, sat unique in a thin forest of iron-grey
wisps.
Cuckoo shut her door and sat down to think. But at first she had to
receive the attentions of Jessie, who was even more surprised than Mrs.
Brigg at her unexpected return, and who began to bark with shrill joy
and run violently round the room with the speed of a rat emancipated from
a cage. As she would not consent to repose herself again, Cuckoo at last
put her into the next room, on the bed, and shut the door on her. Then
she returned, lit all the three gas-burners and turned them full on,
before she removed her hat, and definitely settled herself in for the
evening.
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