He must have some supper.
Tell Hannah.

And I'll go speak to Uncle Adam." Romance flitted off through the twilight with her.

Hungry, Kenny embarked upon a reactive interval of common sense and followed Hughie, who seemed inclined to talk of rain, to the kitchen door.

It was past the supper hour.

Beyond in a huge, old-fashioned kitchen, yellow with lamp light, Hughie's daughter, a ruddy-cheeked girl plump and wholesome as an apple, was washing dishes.