Timmy gave a small wuff. He was watching this night arrival with great interest. Who was she? He was longing to get down from George’s bed and go to sniff at her, but George had her hand on his collar.

“Well, I’ve brought my dog, and I just reckon she’ll have to stay now,” said Berta. “The boat’s gone back. Anyway I wouldn’t go anywhere without Sally. I told my father that, and he said all right then, take her with you! So I did.”

“Mother, tell her how fierce Timmy is and that he would fight any other dog who came here,” said George, urgently. “I won’t have anybody else’s dog at Kirrin Cottage.”

To George’s annoyance her mother took not the slightest notice. She went on helping Berta take off scarves and leggings and goodness knows what. George wondered how anyone could possibly exist in all those clothes on a warm summer’s night.

At last Berta stood in a simple jersey and skirt, a slim, pretty little girl with large blue eyes and wavy golden hair. She shook back her hair, and rubbed her face with a hanky.

“Thank you,” she said. “Can I get Sally my dog now?”

“Not tonight,” said Aunt Fanny. “You see, you are to sleep in that little camp-bed over in the corner — and I can’t let you have your dog here too, because he and Timmy might fight unless we introduce them to one another properly. And there is no time to bother about that tonight. Do you feel hungry now? Would you like some tomato soup and biscuits?”

“Yes, please. I do feel a bit hungry,” said Berta. “I’ve been so sick on that awful bumpy boat that I don’t expect there’s anything left inside me at all!”

“Well, look — you unpack your little night-case, and have a wash in the bathroom if you want to, and then get into your pyjamas,” said Aunt Fanny. “Then hop into bed and I’ll bring you up some soup.”

But one look at the scowling George made her change her mind. Better not leave poor Berta with an angry George on her very first night!

“I think perhaps I won’t get the soup myself,” she said. “George, you go and get it, will you? It’s warming up in the saucepan on the stove downstairs. You’ll see the little soup-cup on the table, and some biscuits too.”

George got out of bed, still looking very mutinous. She watched Berta shake out a night-dress from her night-case and pursed up her lips.

“She doesn’t even wear pjyamas!” she thought. “What a ninny! And she’s had the sauce to bring her own dog, too — spoilt little thing! I wonder where it is? I’ve a good mind to have a look at it when I’m downstairs.”

But her mother had an idea that George might do that and she went to the door after her. “George!” she said, warningly, “I don’t want you to open the dog’s basket downstairs. I’m not having any dog-fights tonight. I shall put him in Timmy’s kennel outside before I go to bed.”