"Is supper ready?" he asked. "I heard you come in."

"Yes, Pa," said Jenny. "Aren't you going to brush your hair? Got a fancy
for it like that, have you? My! What a man! With his shirt unbuttoned
and his tie out. Come here! Let's have a look at you!" Although her
words were unkind, her tone was not, and as she rectified his omissions
and put her arm round him Jenny gave her father a light hug. "All right,
are you? Been a good boy?"

"Yes ... a good boy...." he feebly and waveringly responded. "What's the
noos to-night, Jenny?"

Jenny considered. It made her frown, so concentrated was her effort to
remember.

"Well, somebody's made a speech," she volunteered. "They can all do
that, can't they! And somebody's paid five hundred pounds transfer for
Jack Sutherdon ... is it Barnsley or Burnley?... And--oh, a fire at
Southwark.... Just the usual sort of news, Pa. No murders...."

"Ah, they don't have the murders they used to have," grumbled the old
man.

"That's the police, Pa." Jenny wanted to reassure him.

"I don't know how it is," he trembled, stiffening his body and rising
from the chair.

"Perhaps they hush 'em up!" That was a shock to him. He could not move
until the notion had sunk into his head. "Or perhaps people are more