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Wren looked down at the cold cider that Ginger had served her, shrugging one shoulder up as she prepared to make her answer. The hobbit’s guesses had been almost right all the way. “I wanted to tell Tim that that Mrs. Rosebank was here from Bree and had worked for that fellow-” she didn’t know their old landlord’s name nor what to call him- “because I don’t want to have to go back there, and I thought that she would want us to, even if she did say that we wouldn’t have to. But Tim didn’t listen to me and when I tried to get his attention. . .” her eyes wandered the kitchen briefly. “When I tried to pull him away, see - he was out helping with the drinks of some sort, and he didn’t want to stop, and when I wanted to tell him, he didn’t want to listen, so he pulled away and we fell over into the table and everything fell down and it all got ruined.”
She looked up at Ginger. “Will we have to go away now that we’ve done that and have been bad?” she asked in a small voice. “We didn’t mean to knock it over and make that mess. It was an accident, honest!”
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