‘What do you think of this cottage idea?’ asked Uncle Preston at ten o’clock, sipping his Mil-koko and looking at Auntie Loo over the top of the glass. His large round pale grey eyes were still a little irritable, but they expressed a desire for a second opinion.

‘Well, I think it’s quite a good idea, really, dear,’ replied Auntie Loo, carefully flattening her voice and expression. ‘Of course, there will be a lot to be discussed and arranged first. It would never do to let the poor little things do anything in a hurry. But it would really be an advantage, Preston, to have them all in one place, under your eye, instead of scattered all over London, as they are now.’

‘But miles away! in the country! expensive fares!’

‘Not in the country, dear. On the Heath, Enbury Heath. So convenient for Sophia’s work and for Francis, too, if Mr Graby can have him. And then if Harry could get into a play in the West End, it would be most convenient! They would all three be so comfortable together; and it would be a more economical way of living too, because all their money would be going into one household, instead of three separate ones. And it would give Sophia a little training in housekeeping as well.’

‘Grace said something about wanting Francis to go and live with her and Angela,’ said Uncle Preston, looking at his counsellor over the top of the Mil-koko cup. ‘Eh?’

Auntie Loo compressed her lips, in the renowned and expressive manner of Mrs March, but she said nothing rash. She knew quite well that that silly goose of a woman, Gracie, hoped that Francis would get engaged to his cousin Angela; it would be so romantic. They had played together, she used to remind them, as tiny tots; and conveniently forgot that Francis’s idea of playing had been to pour sand into Angela’s shoes and butt her in the stomach because he hated her.

He still hated her, with the yawning, bored hate which is not a disguise for an unwilling admiration. Auntie Loo knew that all the children hated Angela, who was so pretty, so feminine, so bright and so good at sewing and games; but she would not distress Uncle Preston by saying so. She saw that he suspected Grace of vague but troublesome designs which might lead to family quarrels, and so she lulled his fears.

‘Oh, I don’t think Grace really meant that, dear. I expect she just spoke without thinking; she has a very kind heart, but I don’t think she would really like it at all, if we suggested it to her.’

‘Maxine wants Harry to go and live with her’, muttered Uncle Preston, his voice becoming lower and more depressed as the Mil-koko sank in the cup, and endless vistas of disagreements, rebellious refusals and surprised resentments opened before his tired eyes.

A prolonged pause.

‘I hardly think that would do, dear, do you?’ mildly enquired Auntie Loo, who had been knitting very quickly during the pause, so that her needles flashed and flew like tiny spears.