Against the red glow of the western window opposite he saw the form of Delight Mainprize, seated droopingly in a chair. Beside her stood the stocky figure of Sykes, his head pillowed on his arm. They were both crying.
"Weel," said Kirke, stepping inside, "it's a fine nicht."
Delight gave a stifled scream, and Jimmy uncovered his miserable face and looked at Kirke, quite unabashed. "It's her ear," he said. "She wants me to pierce it and I can't."
"Say that again," said Kirke. "I'm not taking it in. What about her ear?"
"She's bought new earrings. They're to wear at the Firemen's Ball. She wants her ears pierced. I've done one b-but I can't do the other. I'll be sick."
"Weel, you are a flaming coward," said Kirke. "Let's see the job you've done." He bent over the gently sobbing girl and examined her ear.
"Give me the needle," he ordered Sykes.
Delight said in a smothered voice, not uncovering her face: "See that it's threaded."
Kirke threaded the needle skilfully, he was used to doing his own mending. "Now," he bit off, "tairn your head over."
With a little moan, and keeping her eyes tightly shut, Delight rolled her head over, presenting the other ear. Kirke grasped it firmly between his finger and thumb.
"Here's the cork," gulped Jimmy. "You do something with the cork."
"Cork be damned!" said Kirke.
With pitiless precision he pierced the ear, tied the thread in a neat knot, and patted Delight's shoulder.
