“Mistress said not to be disturbed.”
“Not to be disturbed”, echoes weaver Tealy to roller Tillie’s issuance.
Neither look up from their respective tasks. Big Red lumbers by them as if they didn’t exist. He opens the door to the far eastern room.
“We tried,” Tillie said afterwards, rolling a green one now.
“We did,” Tealy quickly followed, weaving his own color still. Always.
Sunklands 