‘My dachshunds,” said Alice Long lovingly.

The country people said to each other, when she was out of sight, “Alice Long has only got her dogs. And all that upkeep.”

“Lady Caroline hates dogs.”

“No, she only hates dachshunds. German sausages. She likes big dogs for the country.”

Alice Long is sitting with her teacup in Mamie’s house, which has five rooms plus k.p.b.—standing for kitchen, pantry, and bathroom— and is semidetached. Next door are Alice Long’s Couple. Mamie’s father no longer works on the estate but is a foreman in the town at Heppleford and Styles’ Linoleum.

“Lady Caroline can’t bear them. They’ve been locked in the north wing since Friday. I have to keep a fire going. . .“

“That wing’s not heated, of course.”

“No. They are freezing and lonely. I keep putting logs on. 1 get up in the middle of the night to see to the fire.”

“They?! be all right, Miss Long.”

“They need a good run, that’s all. I won’t have time for the dogs today. But the family goes home tomorrow or Wednesday . . .“

Mamie has taken the dogs out for a run before. She is not allowed to go near the wood but must keep to the inhabited paths that pass the groups of houses on the estate and lead to the shop. Near the shop are usually the children from the village school, throwing snowballs in winter, wheeling bicycles in summer. Mamie has money for toffee and an orange drink. She wanders by the wood.

Her father has been at home for three working days. There is a strike. Alice Long sits downstairs. The father has gone to wait upstairs until she leaves. Then he opens the cupboard door where the television set is placed in a recess formed by the removal of one of the shelves. Alice Long has not seen this television set. The people next door, her Couple, took on a television many years ago, and keep it out in the living room.