It had come.
After a long time he was one flight of stairs nearer it.

It was making itself at home on the bottom step; resting, doubtless, before it came hopping up.

Another dozen steps, and--It was beautifully dressed in one piece of yellow and brown that reached almost to its feet, with a bit left at the top to form a hood, out of which its pert face peeped impudently; oho, so they came in their Sunday clothes.

He drew so near that he could hear it cooing: thought itself as good as upstairs, did it! He bounced upon her sharply, thinking to carry all with a high hand.
"Out you go!" he cried, with the action of one heaving coals.
She whisked round, and, "Oo boy or oo girl ?" she inquired, puzzled by his dress.
"None of your cheek!" roared insulted manhood.
"Oo boy," she said, decisively.
With the effrontery of them when they are young, she made room for him on her step, but he declined the invitation, knowing that her design was to skip up the stair the moment he was off his guard.
"You don't needn't think as we'll have you," he announced, firmly.

"You had best go away to--go to--" His imagination failed him.