They drew near and sat upon the substitutes for seats in a circle--and
the fire threw up flame and made a glow in the fog hanging in the black
hole of a room.

It was Glad who set the battered kettle on and when it boiled made tea.
The other two watched her, being under her spell. She handed out slices
of bread and sausage and pudding on bits of paper. Polly fed with
tremulous haste; Glad herself with rejoicing and exulting in flavors.
Antony Dart ate bread and meat as he had eaten the bread and dripping at
the stall--accepting his normal hunger as part of the dream.

Suddenly Glad paused in the midst of a huge bite.

"Mister," she said, "p'raps that cove's waitin' fer yer. Let's 'ave 'im
in. I'll go and fetch 'im."

She was getting up, but Dart was on his feet first.

"I must go," he said. "He is expecting me and--"

"Aw," said Glad, "lemme go along o' yer, mister--jest to show there's no
ill feelin'."

"Very well," he answered.

It was she who led, and he who followed. At the door she stopped and
looked round with a grin.

"Keep up the fire, Polly," she threw back. "Ain't it warm and cheerful?
It'll do the cove good to see it."