She went straight to the window and picked up from among the stooping sparrows a piece of the broken sandwich, and ate it.

The Dog David was making sure that there was no surviving crumb on the floor to tell the tale of his mother's sentimental weakness.

Almost instantly, therefore, that sandwich was but a memory, a fading taste in about twenty beaks and two mouths.

But still the window stood open, and the air danced, and the white reflections of the ship-like clouds lay on the oilcloth floor.
Sarah Brown in the meanwhile, disregarding the witch, had returned to the index, and had taken from its drawer a notification form.

In the space given for Name of Case she had written in her irreproachable printing hand: "CHARITY, Cautionary Case, 12 Pan Street, Brown Borough.