Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked. "No, I don't. He then barred and double-locked the door, took out the key, (a precautionary measure which, with a grim smile, he said he never omitted,) thrust it into his vest, and motioning the couple to follow him, led the way to the inner room. ‘You were his daughter. There will be no more children in this house, not ever! And if anyone ever tries bringing children into our house again, I shall kill the lot of them. Lucy looked about confusedly. Piano wire, stained with black rust from the horrible deeds she had committed. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. I'll tote it myself.
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