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Lyza folded her dirty clothes as best she could. Being a girl didn't mean she was miraculous at folding laundry, especially dirty laundry. Worse, Kval was the one who had packed it all away in the first place, so putting it away was almost impossible. She wished she could just shove it all into her bag and wait till she got home, but that wasn't going to happen when everything barely fit when it was neat.

Somehow, she managed. With a pat on the bloated bag, she was pretty much packed up. She just had the sleeping bag and that stuff to go, but that would be done tomorrow morning. After all, she still had to sleep in it.

"It's almost ten," Kval said, his head popping into the tent. "The campfire's going to start soon. You still wanna go?"

"Yeah. I'm all packed."

"Everything?"

"Well..." She looked on her cot. Her flute resided in its box. "Maybe a few odds and ends."

"We'd better get going," he said, ducking out. "It's a fifteen minute walk to the field and we've got ten minutes."

"Okay," she said, her hand shooting out to clasp around her flute.

By all reason, she shouldn't have had to bring it. Between her brother and she, he had lost both bets. He owed her a cake, and she didn't have to play the flute at the campfire.

"Taking it along?" He asked, as she joined him at the table.

"Just in case," she said, distantly.

With the lantern casting a day-blue glow, hand-in-hand the siblings walked down the path for the unteenth time.

Lyza had come to like the walk. Of course, that was during the day, when she could see all the animals and look through all the brambles and nettles of trees. At this time of night the only thing to see were the ghostly shadows, and all to hear was the symphony of the crickets dissident to the tempo of their pace.

"C'mon guys!" Some boys up ahead shouted, "We're late!"

The troop campsite nearby was obviously in a rouse trying to head over. They shuffled out ahead with lights, carrying chairs and water bottles making all manner of clink and clank. The master that they had seen before, whose name Lyza had forgotten, spotted them coming down the road.

"Hey, campers," he greeted, running to them. "Running late, too, huh?" He asked, walking in pace with them.

"Had to finish up packing." Kval said.

"Oh? Are you guys leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," he replied.

"Did you guys have fun?" He questioned. "I hope your stay was good."

"Yeah," Lyza replied. "We had a lot of fun."

"Lyza won the archery tournament," Kval said proudly.

"No kidding. I heard about that. They might make announcement at the fire, tonight. Why don't you guys sit with our troop?"

"We'll see," Kval said distantly.

"You don't have to. I understand." The adult started to increase his pace. "I'll see you guys around."

"See ya."

Lyza couldn't help but feel that Kval was beginning to act a lot like he had early this morning. "Do you not like him?" She asked softly.

"No, he's fine," Kval replied. "They're just being friendly."

The rest of the walk was pretty quiet. Ordinarily Lyza would be out of breath having to go at such a pace for so long, but the short while she had stayed here really strengthened her endurance. She felt like she could even beat Virgil around the course with how much walking she had been doing.

They arrived at the campfire. Lyza was surprised by how many people were there. It was an auditorium-type arrangement. There were several tiers of seats in a half-circle about the bottom, with a few ramps going downward between the seats and on the sides.

The audience area was lit up mostly by personal lights or lanterns. The bonfire was already started, and being tended to by several people in the Camp Connalake uniform.

"Hey! Hello, it's you guys again," spoke a familiar voice.

Lyza recognized her only just barely. Then it hit; she was one of the ladies from the leatherworking station.

"Ready for some fun?"

"Sure," Kval said. "Where do we sit?"

"Families are on the right, just find a spot. Umm--oh! There's one right there in the middle, third row up; real close to the action."

"Thanks," Kval said as he took his sister's hand. "Is that where you want to sit?"

"Sure," she said, her ears bobbing as she nodded.

They made their way to the spot without any difficulty. Before they sat down, though, Kval checked for bugs. It donned him just as they were about to get there, that there might be a reason those prime seats were still open. He offered his sister the choice of where to sit.

She opted for the window-seat, so Kval had to sit next to a very elderly weasel. The grandmother weasel had a wheeze to her breathing; whether a wheeze was the trait of a weasel, Kval didn't know, but he wouldn't let it bother him. It could be worse.

It could be Becky.

He wondered where they were. He glanced about, but saw no sign of a Koala. The closest he got was a kangaroo in the middle of the crowd. Maybe the boy managed to tell his mother after all, and she was doing what was necessary to handle it.

The thought eased his mind.

Lyza rested the flute box upon her lap. She opened the lid and stuck her fingers in, to make sure it was actually there. She wasn't quite sure whether she was happy or sad that it was, but at least she hadn't lost it.

Placing the opening back, she watched as the staff members tended the fire. It was a very big fire, in the shape of a Tipi. The memory of the burning structure began to creep its way back into her mind. She pretended it was a dream.

She discovered that the family section was more spread out than the troop section, as she looked about the audience. That was probably normal. She had gotten used to seeing Boy Scout uniforms all over the place, especially during breakfast and dinner. She had never really gotten into that phase that most girls do, where boys are icky and gross. What was so icky and gross about them? Just because they tended to get a little dirty? Heck, she just took a shower and already she felt dirty again. It wasn't that big of a deal.

Rini would probably freak if she had to do something like this. There was no way that prissy girl would ever dream of getting too dirty at recess, let alone go camping for almost a week without a proper shower.

"All right guys, families and all," a vixen said as she went up to the center of the auditorium, right in front of the fire.

It was hard to tell which was more orange, between the two of them.

"If we could please turn out the lights in the audience, that would be great." Lights began to flicker off. "Good good. Up in the back? Thank you."

Kval flicked off the lantern and set it down between them at their feet.

"Welcome everyone to Camp Connalake Bonfire: Spring Break Edition!" She stated, rallying everyone up for a cheer. Most of the noise came from the Boy Scout side. "If it's your first time to a bonfire, then welcome; we hope you have fun." She cleared her throat. "Basically it works like this: we have some news and announcements to give, and then we open it up for skits and songs and maybe even a story--whatever you guys wanna do. Families, don't be shy you guys can join in too. So, if everyone's ready we'll get started."

Nothing but silence in the crowd.

"Okay then. Take it away, Ricky."

"Hey hey hey everybody!"

Lyza had to cover her ears from the uproar that sounded from the Boy Scout area. Down at the fire, a Border Collie wearing the Connalake uniform replaced the vixen. Lyza could barely make out where his eyes were, but knew they had to be somewhere beside the white stripe that ran down his snout.

"For those of you who don't know me," the man said very energetically and enthusiastically, as well as loud enough for even the crickets to hear, "My name is Ricky and, believe it or not, I'm the camp director. I know I know you were maybe expecting somebody older, maybe a bit 'bigger', a little bit more boring."

The audience laughed.

"But that's not what Camp Connalake is about. We're here to have fun and be active. Are you having fun?"

Lyza was prepared this time.

"Are you being active?"

A few people shouted.

"Y'know that happens every time..." He said expectantly, dropping his arms. "Anyway," he clapped. "I have several announcements to give. Lots of announcements. Let's see...First of all, some of you may remember the smoke coming from over by metalworking the other day. Anybody?"

Murmurs and nods.

"Right, well. Unfortunately we had a bit of a grease-fire accident. It's totally no big deal guys, okay? All that matters is that everyone's safe, we're all cool and nobody's hurt. I hear that everyone acted orderly and the fire didn't spread too far. Y'know what? That's awesome, you guys rock for that." He gave a double thumbs-up.

There was a bit of hesitant cheering.

"Also, just a fair warning, we've been watching the weather. You guys mighta noticed the clouds today, all gloomy and looking like they wanna rain but not really doing it. Well, they're right over our heads now, so we might get rained on. If that's the case, just head back to your campsites as orderly as you did from the metalwork fires and we'll be all right. A little rain never hurt nobody, right?"

"Nope!" Came a shout from the crowd.

"I hear that." The Collie, who had not really been moving that much until now, began pacing. "So, that aside. Got some exciting announcements! Earlier this week, I think...I wanna say last Wednesday--after last week's bonfire--had one of our boys catch a record-breaking twenty-two inch catfish." He spread his arms wide. "I mean this thing was huge, I had no idea the lake had one of those. If you haven't had a chance to see it, it's up on display in the admissions cabin. The boy was from....I belieeeeeve troop..."

"Two-eight-seven-seveeeeeeen!" Came a shout from the top of the Boy Scout area.

"I'm sorry, what was that number?"

Two-eight-seven-seveeeeeeeen!"

"Don't forget!" Ricky snapped. "Great job guys! Also--gosh, what else happened last week?" He walked back and forth. "Let's see. This Friday is the canoe race... Oh, right. So, we had an archery tournament today down at the ranges. From what I've heard, it was a really close match. The winner comes from one of our family-campers, is she here right now?"

Lyza felt a wave of nervousness overcome her.

"Come on, don't be shy."

Hesitantly, she raised her hand.

"There it is! Why don't you stand up?"

With the help of her brother, she stood on the stone seat.

"Can you tell us your name?"

Shyly, Lyza spoke, "L--Lizzy," she said, opting for the easier-to-pronounce version of her name.

"And how was it? Was it tough?"

"Yeah," she admitted, "Real tough."

"So I heard," he said, as she finally lost nerve and sat down. "She won by a single point; but let me tell ya, in archery, that makes all the difference. So let's give a round of applause."

Even a few whistles were added for good measure.

"Next week is the rifle tournament, so make sure you bring your earmuffs." There was a bit of a silence as the camp director looked about the audience. "Well, it's almost time for the open mic part of the night, but before that happens..." He cleared his throat. Everyone felt the cloud of seriousness as even if the fire settled more to listen.

"Guys. We're here to have fun right? But sometimes, things might not be fun. We might get into little fights and stuff like that, and I understand. It happens. Now, adults..." He cleared his throat again, the pace of his voice oddly slow for what it was before. "When you're at your campsites, it's up to you decide how to handle conflicts. We're not going to say what you should and shouldn't do, and we expect that you guys--especially you scoutmasters--are trustworthy in being able to handle the situation properly.

"But when you guys are at an event or an activity, I'd like to make one thing very clear. We're the ones responsible for you guys when you're at our events. We've had some issues in the past with adults trying to do things at the archery range or in metalworking or something like that, and every time it's been...complicated. Believe me, I know; especially you families, sometimes you might see your little ones getting into trouble with some of the Troopers." He took in a big breath as he paused in his pace.

"But please. Let us handle it if it's at our station. My staff is trained to do that. We especially don't want any kind of physical contact between an adult and a child. Especially no hitting, shoulder-grabbing or jerking."

Lyza heard some of the boys across the ramp laugh.

"You guys got it?" Ricky asked energetically, jumping up and landing with his legs in a squat and his arms spread out.

"Yes sir!" Shouted the crowd.

"All right, good," he returned to a more relaxed posture. "Anywho, now that all that babble is out of the way. Why don't we start having fun again! The floor is open to anyone who wants to do a skit or a song. All that we ask is that you're as appropriate as possible--remember, there are families here."

With that, the Border Collie stepped back to his seat and the vixen returned. "All right guys, it's skit-time! Who wants to go first?"

"Two-eight-seven-seveeeeeeeen!" Came a familiar, booming shout.

"Okay two-eight-seven-seven, come on down!"

There were a few seconds of silence as the boys shuffled down the ramps. They took one of the benches nearby and placed it in front of the fire. Four boys sat on the bench, and one boy and an adult stood off to the side. The boys on the benches began moving their hands, miming something that Lyza didn't quite get.

"So, Jim," the adult said as he walked with the boy up to the bench. "This is the kitchen. Your job will be to help these guys peel their potatoes. You know how a peeler works?"

"Yes sir," the boy replied.

"All right, then I'll leave you at it."

The boy walked over to an open spot on the bench, greeting the other boys along the way.

For a second they were silent until one boy shouted: "Forty-three!"

The other boys on the bench began to laugh.

The new boy looked at them quizzically, then began peeling his imaginary potato.

"Sixty-two!"

More laughter from the boys, and some from the audience.

The new boy looked at his coworkers again, still a bit confused. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask the boy next to him: "Hey, what's everyone doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you guys keep saying numbers and laughing."

"Oh," the boy chuckled. "We've been working here for so long that we've memorized all of our jokes and gave them numbers."

"Really?"

"Yup."

Silence again as the boys continued working.

The new boy took in a deep breath. "Seventeen!" He shouted.

Nothing.

"Seventeen!" He tried again.

No laughter, but a bit from the audience.

"Seventeen?" He asked.

The boy next to him shook his head and then patted his shoulder. "It's okay, some people just don't know how to tell a good joke."

The audience began to laugh, but Lyza didn't quite get it.

"He shouted a number hoping it would be funny but it wasn't," Kval explained.

"I know that, fart-face," she retorted playfully. Now that he told her, the skit was kind of funny.

"That was troop two-eight-seven-seven. Who's next? Families are welcome, too!"

Lyza gripped her flute.

"Ninety-three sixteen!" Several boys shouted.

"Ninety-three sixteen, come on down!"

Again, there was a bit of silence as the boys prepared. They all had their own chairs that they brought, and they started off by sitting in them.

"What kind of skit should we do?" One of the boys asked.

"I know!" Came a quick reply, "We can sing the Oscar Mayer song. You know: 'Oh I wish I was an Oscar Mayer wiener...'"

The audience began to either boo or join in.

"No no no!" Another boy shouted to cut everything off. "I don't want to sing. Let's do the Flinstones. You know, like," he suddenly brandished a club: "Hey, Barney!" He pointed at the Oscar Mayer kid, "Those are my Fruity Pebbles!"

The Oscar Mayer boy screamed as the Flinstones boy chased him around. The other boys remained seated as if nothing was happening, causing a chuckle.

Finally another boy spoke up. "Man, I don't wanna do a skit about cereal. Let's have some action, like..." He hopped out of his seat, knocking it backward as he brandished a toy sword, "Lord of the Rings!" He pointed at the Oscar Mayer kid. "Kill the Orcs!"

Again the Oscar Mayer boy screamed as he was chased with a deadly toy weapon.

"Guys guys guys," another boy stood up, cutting them off. "That's a little over-rated. Let's do something Star Wars. You know, with light-sabers and laser-guns," he pulled out a glowing Laser Tag gun and turned it on. "Take this Imperial scum!" He pointed at the Oscar Mayer kid, and chased him around with the gun, both shouting.

"You guys are so lame!" The first boy shouted, taking the laser gun away. "We need to stick to the classics. I'm thinking...Mario." He pointed at the Oscar Mayer boy: "Hark! A Goomba!" He exclaimed, and jumped at him.

Both boys went crashing to the ground.

"Come on guys," the Flinstones boy spoke up: "We need to keep this clean. Huddle up."

All of the boys grouped together, deliberating for several moments. Every now and again a boy would pop their head up and look at the audience. The all-too familiar squeal of the Oscar Mayer boy came from the huddle, implying he was being told something horrible would happen to him.

The huddle broke, and the boys faced the audience. "After a long, hard decision," the first boy spoke, "We've decided... We're not doing a skit tonight."

Lyza got that one. "I can't believe that kid jumped on the other one. That musta hurt!"

"I'm sure they practiced," Kval said.

"Troop ninety-three sixteen everyone." The vixen said. "Who's up next? Any families this time?"

Lyza gripped her flute again, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She looked at Kval, who looked at her. He smiled, but nothing else.

"I'll go," came a voice from the front row.

Lyza watched as a mouse-girl just a little older than half her age slowly walked to the center of the stage. She was accompanied with her father, who kneeled beside her to be her coach.

"Tell them your name, sweetheart," he said softly.

"Um," the girl said, twisting back and forth, "My name is Emily Watson," she said.

"And what are you going to do?"

"Um," she took in a deep breath and wrung her arms a little. "I can do lots of bird calls." She took in a deep breath again, and put her hands up to her muzzle.

Lyza's ears really couldn't tell the difference between the girl's whistling and a real bird.

The girl's act was short. She transitioned between several different calls, and then lost it to a fit of nervous giggles. The audience clapped and cheered as she hurriedly stepped back to her seat.

"Thank you Emily," the vixen emcee stated as she got up again. "Next up?"

"Two-four-oh-nine!" Chanted another troop from the front rows.

"Two-four-oh-nine, let's go!" The vixen beckoned.

Two boys came from their seats and went to the center of the stage. One boy got down on hands and knees, and the other boy reached down and brought his hand from the boy's head, pulling it backwards very fast.

The boy on the ground made a juh-juh-juh-juh sound, like a troubled engine.

The standing boy tugged again. Juh-juh-juh-juh-juh-juh-juh.

Again, harder. JUH-JUH-Juh-juh-juh-juh-juh-juh...

Another boy came onto the stage, idly walking by. "Hey, whatchya doin'?" He asked.

The standing boy straightened up with a groan. "Trying to get this stupid lawn mower to start." He pretended to kick the lawnmower boy.

Ow. The lawnmower said.

"Hmm. Mind if I try?"

"Sure, go ahead."

The boy got into the same position and pulled the cord.

Juh-juh-juh-juh. JUH-JUH-Juh-juh-juh. JUH-juh-juh-JUH-juh-juh...

"Hey guys, what's going on?"

The boys stood up as one of the adults came by.

"Hey scoutmaster. We're just trying to get this mower started, but neither of us can get it to work."

"Really? Can I take a look."

"You can try."

The boys stepped aside as the scoutmaster approached the mower. "Let's see. It's an old model. I think I can get it to work. Let me just..."

He pulled.

Juh-juh-juh-juh-juh-brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

"There ya go boys, got it up and running."

"Huh," the first boy said. "I guess all it needed was a big jerk."

The audience laughed, and the Troop-side cheered.

"Two-four-oh-nine," the vixen repeated as she got back in front of the fire.

Just then, a boom sounded overhead.

"Uh oh guys, it looks like the storm is coming. We might have time for one more. Does anyone wanna--"

"I will!"

The words left her before she even had a chance to stop them. Lyza raised the flute above her head to call attention to herself. The vixen nodded.

"All right, come on down."

"I'll go with you," Kval said, surprised his sister jumped up so readily.

"No," she said. "That's...that's okay."

"You sure?"

She nodded.

Wherever this bravery came from, she didn't know. As she shuffled down the ramp toward the fire, inside her brain kept questioning what the heck she was doing volunteering like that.

Well if a six-year-old can do it, so can I. She told it.

She took a seat at the bench, which was now a little off to the right. At her back, the fire was almost a little too intense for her skin to bear. But she was beginning to feel her nerves tighten, and because of that she was able to just deal.

"H...Hi everyone," she said, scooting just a bit more to the non-fire edge of the bench. "Um...My name is Lizzy..."

"Go Liz_zeh!_"

She had no earthly clue who said that. "I...I like to play the flute." She said, pulling it out of the box with nervous fingers. Fingers that had, only a few hours ago, won her an archery contest. Now they could barely open the cardboard flap. "I got an Indian-style flute over Christmas, and I've been using it ever since."

"Are you going to play a song for us?" The camp director asked, with a genuine kind of hope.

"I--I can," Lyza said. Why else would she be up there? But the question did sort of break the ice. "I don't know any real Indian songs though. I just kind of--"

"Can you play Pocahontas?"

The rabbit's ears wilted a little. Not this again...

"Yeah! The one from the movie!"

One ear perked back up. Maybe no one was trying to tease her like before. She couldn't tell who was asking, for she couldn't see anyone's face beyond the few people right in front of her. Though, it was kind of odd that the voices were coming from her right, where the Scouts sat.

"Is that something you might want to play?" The camp director asked.

She glanced at the fire as it snapped beside her, sending a wave of heat over her shoulder. "You mean this one?" She drew the mouthpiece to her lips and played for them a little fragment.

"Yeah that one!" One of the voices that had suggested it confirmed.

Lyza adjusted her posture. She couldn't help but feel relieved inside. After two years of practicing the basics twice a week, every week, she had gotten enough skill to learn more complex songs. Colors of the Wind was one of the first really big pieces she had mastered, and by ear no less. Sure, she wasn't perfect at it and she hadn't played it in a very long time, but as she took several deep preparing breaths, her fingers began to feel the motions they would be performing.

Without another reason to delay, she pulled the flute back to her lips.

She started with her own beginning; the notes were fast, her fingers drifting, feeling for the rhythm of the song.

And then, she was suddenly playing nothing. The flute slipped right out of her fingers, as if it was trying to run away from her. It thumped upon the ground, and she quickly leapt--more like fell--off the bench to retrieve it.

"Oh man," she muttered as she picked it up and held it to the firelight.

"DId it chip?" The Border Collie asked, making to stand up and go to her.

"No," she replied, and so he eased back into his seat. "Sorry," she apologized; "It's still a little big for me..."

"It's okay." The vixen next to the camp director said. "Try again."

Lyza found her spot upon the bench, but she froze. Her hands were trembling now--how could she keep playing if her fingers were so jittery? But she couldn't just leave now, that would be embarrassing!

Chih, p'kat.

The noise came from her right. The sound of a shaking jingle-bell and of wood being handled. Chih, chih, chih, the bells shook to the rhythm of a walking pace.

As the bells came nearer, Lyza gradually made out the source as he stepped more and more into the glow of the calming fire.

A very tall wolf walked quickly but deliberately toward her. He was dressed in Indian regalia: a feathered headpiece and wooden armor-vest the most distinguishing features. He carried with him a wide, shallow drum. About his ankles, the bells shook with every step.

She scooted a bit farther to the edge as she saw he was going to sit beside her. As he did, the wooden body of the drum made a bit of a ruckus while he stood it up with his left arm draped over it like a friend.

Lyza watched his amber eyes glance to her for just a moment, and then he gave a nod. They closed, as if he had decided that was the perfect spot to take a nap. Even though she couldn't possibly know him, Lyza felt a kind of performer's connection with the wolf. He was patient and confident, paying no attention to the crowd in front of him as he sat like a statue.

She pulled some of that from him, and her flute found its way back to her.

She started once again at her beginning. The notes this time were slow, their resonance aglow, her fingers stepping now with care.

Ba-dum ba-da-dum.

She knew just when drum would beat beside her. Chih. She felt the rhythm in the fire's twitch. She closed her eyes and felt heavens quiver; as the clouds began to augur coming rains.

The whispers of the song reached to the list'ners. Some of them began to hum along. Bum, chih. And as the notes grew loud and strong in volume, the words began to trickle from them too.

"Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?" Bom. "Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountains; can you paint with all the colors,"-chih-"of the wind? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?"

She felt her blood rush through her veins; performer's nerves began to strain. High above the clouds surrounded and began their promised shower.

Yet not a drop would come to the performance. It rained about but they stayed warm and dry. The fire laughed and cackled at the danger, while the players kept on going unperturbed. Not a flash of lightning startled any singer. No roar of thunder could be overheard. They began to huddle close to one another; no one tempted to abandon all their friends.

As she sprang from where she sat the flutist blew her tune with the intensity of all the weather 'round. All the others followed with her, as it finished; left with tingles in their fingers and their ears.

Last she played a little rhythm that dipped low to signify the end.

Lyza opened her eyes to see the audience clapping, before a loud cough and a puff of smoke bellowed from the pit. The rain began to intrude upon the auditorium, making a victim of the fire.

"All right guys," the camp director said over the noise of the rain. "Looks like the weather says we're done. Everyone please leave orderly."

Lyza clutched her flute in her arms to keep it from getting wet. In the dozens of lights that flickered on, she looked for the wolf who had sat next to her, but didn't see him. She made her way to her brother as he struggled to open a collapsible umbrella. She flinched as it snapped open, but was thankful for its shelter as she clung to his side to get as much cover as she could.

The rain loosened up almost immediately, turning from a heavy downpour to a light drizzle in just a matter of moments.

"Well that's anticlimactic," Kval half-grumbled.

"I know," Lyza actually grumbled. "If it was gonna cut my solo off it could at least do a better job."

"I gotta be honest, sis," her brother began, his voice a bit aquiver from the sudden drop in temperature, "I had no idea that many people could start singing along. Boys no less."

"I didn't really hear that," she admitted. "I was concentrating so hard. If it wasn't for that Indian guy with the drum I would have had such a bad tempo."

"There was a drum?"

She tugged at her foot, which got stuck in the mud. "Yeah--ugh! He was right next to me, didn't you hear it?"

"Sis, when you play, I can hear the whole symphony."

The compliment made Lyza roll her eyes, even though he couldn't see it. Sometimes he was so dramatic about stuff.

Her legs stopped shaking as they reached the rock-covered road to their campsite. The gritty, wet crunch of the tiny stones grating together was oddly soothing to her ears. When their campsite came into view, the rain had all but stopped.

In the darkness, a light was on in their site. It was at the pavilion, probably sitting on the picnic table. Lyza could see at least a couple of people sitting at the table. Probably someone who wanted to tell her how good a job she did. She prepared herself for the praise that she never quite knew how to handle.

"'Oi Kev. G'evenin' lil' joey. Can w'siddown an' talk?"