Chapter II.VIII

While Jo & Delia sat on the floor in his office, the girl's mother finished setting the table in the kitchen. Having washed her hands and leaning half a step into the office.

- And on that lovely note, y'all, welcome to the table! - she shouted.

Two voices mixed in response to her invitation:

- Thank you, missis Ivette! - Jo replied. 

- Thank you, mommy! - Delia did not remain in debt.

Of all three who were now within the walls of this house, it was its owner who wanted to eat the most. Therefore, he did not hesitate and, getting to his feet, went to the kitchen, where the table was already set, the richness of which struck the imagination of mister Thurlow, who, due to some stinginess, usually ate scrambled eggs and store-bought sandwiches. But what is good for a grown man, for a child... No, not better, rather just the opposite. Perhaps such a definition should not be applied to all children, but as for the young heiress of the Yonce family... While Jo happily devoured what was on the table, the little girl fidgeted in her chair and looked bored, picking at her plate with a fork. Only when it was time to drink tea did she perk up a little and, not depriving herself of sweets, took a couple of eclairs.

- Dearie, you can't eat nothing and indulge in sweets! - missis Yonce took on an educational tone.

- Mom, come on, I'm just... - embarrassed child.

He decided not to interfere in this exchange of words. It seemed to Jo that neighbour would begin to reproach him for the fact that her daughter did not really eat anything. Like, considering how quickly you eat everything, she thought it was better not to snatch the last piece from you and leave everything as it is...

- Mister Thurlow, - a woman turned to him. - Will you walk us to the gate? Otherwise...

- What, that is all? - her daughter interrupted with a hint of obvious irritation.

- Delia! Don't offend the mother! - missis Yonce said with about the same intonation

Jo decided that if the fire of discontent begins to flare up between women, then it is better not to loom under their noses and retreat. He wiped the crumbs stuck to the corners of his mouth and stood up from his chair.

- Oh, finally! - the woman was happy. - Let's go, mister Thurlow, Delia are already complete.

The owner of the house nodded to his adult guest and was about to go out onto the porch, when she suddenly let out a loud "Ah!" and asked where Jo's dirty clothes were. He remembered the telephone conversation that took place this morning between him and his neighbour, after which, slamming the front door, he went to help her pack that very flour-covered suit. The little girl, delighted at the fact that she could stay in this new place for at least a couple of extra minutes, ran to his office.

When the adults finally finished their deeds - just fold the clothes and put them in the previously emptied picnic basket - Delia hasn't left the room yet. Her mother's telling her that it was time for them to leave had no effect on her daughter. Jo, signaling to missis Yonce to wait a little, quietly, as if a hunter, afraid of spooking his prey, entered his own office. There he witnessed Delia, standing at the window, vigorously gesticulating to someone. Mister Thurlow coughed ingratiatingly. Baby girl turned her head towards him - there was no feeling of surprise on her face, rather some kind of businesslike. Jo became curious about what interested her and also stood at the window, which overlooked the back side of his property. Of course there was no one there. Mister Thurlow touched the shoulder of Delia standing in front of him with his index finger. She reluctantly turned away from the window and, lowering her head, went to her mother, who was nervously moving from foot to foot, holding a basket in her hands.

- Can I carry... - Jo decided to show gallantry.

- We'll only get to the wicket, to our house, on our own, - missis Yonce interrupted him

He took the basket from woman's hands and the three of them went out into the yard. Clouds began to creep in on the sun again. Mister Thurlow looked at his dog - he sat quietly at the post, not making a sound. "The girl intimidated him", Jo thought. As they approached the fence, a loud and dissatisfied sniffling reached Jo's ears from the street. Opening the wicket, he almost came face to face with mister Yonce, who, with his hands on his hips, looked at his neighbour with some hatred. However, the sight of his wife and daughter leaving the yard slightly reduced the degree of his displeasure and he, taking the basket from his spouse, walked ahead of his family, giving mister Thurlow a parting look full of suspicion.

Jo, having shouted after the Yonce family the duty "Till we meet again", closed the gate and headed to the post to untie Buffalo. Oddly enough, as soon as the women left the territory, the dog immediately began barking and rushing in all directions. His owner had to make a lot of effort to hold the dog and remove the collar from his neck. As soon as Buffalo felt free, he ran up to the fence and began jumping on it again. Jo, still perplexed by such a dramatic change in his pet's mood, stifled a yawn and, hanging the leash on a nail, walked into the house.

He walked into the kitchen and glanced at the table, on which only dirty plates remained from its former splendour. In any case, he was no longer hungry, so he collected all the dishes and started to wash them in the sink, began to wonder what he should do now. Having finished washing the dishes, he carefully put them in their places and looked at his wristwatch. "Yes, the shops will be closing soon", Jo thought. In order not to meet tomorrow like this (i.e. without food), he went to the store. When mister Thurlow was already returning back with the packages, the sun was already setting. Passing near the neighbours' gate, he again noticed mister Yonce's car near them, which he had last seen yesterday morning. Without trying to make any sense of it, mister Thurlow went into his home and unpacked his groceries. Looking around at the full shelves of the refrigerator, Jo slammed the door and remembered that he had forgotten to put the books and records that had fallen out back.