ction; they had simply
taken another room in St. Ann's Terrace where she had lived with Winny.
And she had kept her job at Starker's, and meant to keep it for another
year or so. Fred wasn't going to have any kids he couldn't provide for.
Ranny's case had been a warning to him.

And Ranny's case was lamentable that winter, after he had paid for his
suit. They lived almost entirely now on hampers sent from Hertfordshire.
The hampers were no longer treated as mysterious windfalls; they came
regularly once a week, and were shamefully and openly allowed for in the
accounts. And regularly once a week the young Ransomes had their Sunday
dinner at Wandsworth; they reckoned it as one square meal.

All this squeezing and pinching was to pay for a little girl to look
after Baby in the mornings. They had found another, and had contrived to
keep her. For Violet, though she went on making scenes with Ranny, was
quiet enough now when Ranny wasn't there, if only Baby was kept well out
of her way. In the autumn months and in the early winter she even had
her good days, days of passivity, days of exaltation and of rapt
brooding, days when she went as if sustained by some mysterious and
secret satisfaction, some agreeable reminiscence or anticipation. And if
Ransome never noticed that these days were generally Thursdays, it was
because Thursday (early-closing day in Southfields) had no interest or
significance for Ranny. And of all Violet's moods he found the one
simple explanation in her state.

* * * * *

On the whole, he observed a change for the better in his household.
Things were kept straighter. There was less dust about, and Ranny's
prize cups had never ceased to shine. His socks and vests were
punctually mended, and Baby at his homecoming was always neat and clean.
He knew that Winny had a hand in it. For Winny, established at Johnson's
at the corner, was free a good half hour before he could get back from
Oxford Street; and as often as not he found her putting Baby to bed when
Violet was out or lying down. But he did not know, he was nowhere near
knowing, half the things that Winny did for them. He didn't want to
know. All that he did know made him miserable or pleased him according
to his mood. Of course it couldn't really please him to think that Winny
worked for him for nothing; but to know that she was there, moving about
his house, loving and caring for his child as he loved and cared for