There was a knock at the door. Owen stood and opened it, allowing a young man to enter. He carried two travel cases, one under each arm. Owen relieved him of one and helped the man set it on the bed. Behind him, a plump, sweet-faced lady bore a tray with a pair of covered plates, a pair of bowls, also covered, and a basket of fresh bread.
“Here you are, dears. Thought you might be a bit peckish after your journey.” The woman, Mrs. Hunter, carried the tray over and set it down on the little table between the two chairs by the fire.
“If you need anything, you just come downstairs and I’ll see to it.” Mrs. Hunter winked at Milly, her bright smile a comfort in this strange place.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hunter,” she said just before the woman and the young lad exited the room. Owen closed the door
