n she looked alarmed. 'What's happened? Is anybody dead?'

I patted her arm.

'No. I didn't come to a funeral this time. I got off the train at
Hastings and drove down to see you and your family.'

She dropped my hand and began rushing about. 'Anton, Yulka, Nina, where
are you all? Run, Anna, and hunt for the boys. They're off looking for
that dog, somewhere. And call Leo. Where is that Leo!' She pulled them
out of corners and came bringing them like a mother cat bringing in her
kittens. 'You don't have to go right off, Jim? My oldest boy's not here.
He's gone with papa to the street fair at Wilber. I won't let you go!
You've got to stay and see Rudolph and our papa.' She looked at me
imploringly, panting with excitement.

While I reassured her and told her there would be plenty of time,
the barefooted boys from outside were slipping into the kitchen and
gathering about her.

'Now, tell me their names, and how old they are.'

As she told them off in turn, she made several mistakes about ages, and
they roared with laughter. When she came to my light-footed friend of
the windmill, she said, 'This is Leo, and he's old enough to be better
than he is.'

He ran up to her and butted her playfully with his curly head, like
a little ram, but his voice was quite desperate. 'You've forgot! You
always forget mine. It's mean! Please tell him, mother!' He clenched his
fists in vexation and looked up at her impetuously.

She wound her forefinger in his yellow fleece and pulled it, watching
him. 'Well, how old are you?'

'I'm twelve,' he panted, looking not at me but at her; 'I'm twelve years
old, and I was born on Easter Day!'

She nodded to me. 'It's true. He was an Easter baby.'

The children all looked at me, as if they expected me to exhibit
astonishment or delight at this information. Clearly, they were proud
of each other, and of being so many. When they had all been introduced,
Anna, the eldest daughter, who had met me at the door, scattered
them gently, and came bringing a white apron which she tied round her
mother's waist.

'Now, mother, sit down and talk to Mr. Burden. We'll finish the dishes
quietly and not disturb you.'

Antonia looked about, quite distracted. 'Yes, child, but why don't
we take him into the parlour, now that we've got a nice parlour for
company?'

The daughter laughed indulgently, and took my hat from me. 'Well, you're
here, now, mother, and if you talk here, Yulka and I can listen, too.