Sheppard superior to her station. ’ ‘I think he only wants to help you, miss,’ offered Jack. The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. She took the piece of paper and unfolded it in the safety of her lap. On a bench at the foot of the trees, with a pipe in his mouth, and a tankard by his side, sat the worthy carpenter, looking the picture of good-heartedness and benevolence. The sun was setting when she carried the metal garbage can to the curb with their remains in it, where they sat underneath the stale chocolate cake that Sheila had thrown away and a pile of mildewy lettuce. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. Nice, of course. Her faithful servant struggled, with her assistance, to rise.
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