The Arab answered, "Jicks wants to get out." At the same moment, the screaming of a baby below, informed me that I was in the near neighborhood of Mrs.Finch.
I advanced towards the noise, and found myself standing before the open door of a large store-room at the extreme end of the passage.

In the middle of the room (issuing household commodities to the cook) sat Mrs.
Finch.

She was robed this time in a petticoat and a shawl; and she had the baby and the novel laid together flat on their backs in her lap.
"Eight pounds of soap?
Where does it all go to I wonder!" groaned Mrs.
Finch to the accompaniment of the baby's screams.

"Five pounds of soda for the laundry?
One would think we did the washing for the whole village.

Six pounds of candles?
You must eat candles, like the Russians: who ever heard of burning six pounds of candles in a week?
Ten pounds of sugar?
Who gets it all?
I never taste sugar from one year's end to another.