Miss Wren’s basket

Something came out of the window above.

It was a basket. A small round basket of the kind used for eggs, with a handle, and it was tied by its handle to a length of string, and the string was being let out, hand over hand, by Miss Wren, who had reappeared at the window and was leaning out to see where the basket was going.

It came down past the lamp, turning slowly on its string. Jonah reached out and took hold of it.

In the bottom of the basket, on a folded napkin, were three twists of paper.

“Toffee,” said Miss Wren, from above. “I made it this afternoon. It's a little hard. You'll have to suck it and be patient. One for you, and one each for the little ones.”

“That's kind of you.”

“It isn't kind at all. I made too much, and I shall eat it all myself if I don't give it away, and then I shan't be able to close my mouth on Sunday.”

Jonah took the three twists out of the basket and put them in the inside pocket of his coat, where they would stay dry. The paper crackled.

“Thank you, Miss Wren.”

“Pull twice when it's empty.”

He pulled twice on the string. The basket went up again, turning, and Miss Wren gathered it in through the window.

An original extract from The Lamplighter’s Round · about 1 minute to read.