It was a stifling summer evening. I had just come home from work, taken
off my coat, unbuttoned my waistcoat, and sat down panting by the window
of my little room.
There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for my reply, in came
a woman with yellow hair, and very untidy in her dress.
I judged from her appearance that she had not come from a distance. She
had nothing on her head, her sleeves were tucked up, she held a ladle in
her hand, and she was chewing something or other.
"I am Manasseh's wife," said she.
"Manasseh Gricklin's?" I asked.
"Yes," said my visitor, "Gricklin's, Gricklin's."