George said nothing but went on downstairs. The soup was just about to boil and she whipped it off the stove at once. She poured it into the little soup-cup, placed it on the saucer, and put some biscuits on the side.

She heard a small whimpering sound, and turned round. It came from a fairly large basket over in the corner. George was terribly tempted to go and undo it — but she knew perfectly well that if the new dog ran upstairs to find its mistress, Timmy would bark and wake everybody up! It wasn’t worth risking.

She took up the soup. Berta was now in the camp bed and looked very cosy. Anne was still sleeping peacefully, quite undisturbed by all that was going on. Timmy had taken the opportunity of jumping off George’s bed and had gone to examine this newcomer. He sniffed her delicately, and Berta put out her hand and stroked his head.

“What lovely eyes he’s got,” she said. “But he’s a mongrel, isn’t he? A sort of mixture-dog.”

“Don’t you say anything like that to George,” said Aunt Fanny. “She adores Timmy. Now — do you feel better? I hope you’ll be happy with us, Berta dear — I am sure you didn’t want to come — but your father was so worried. And it will be nice for you to get to know Anne and Georgina before you go to their school next term.”

“Oh — was that Georgina — the one you called George?” said Berta in surprise. “I wasn’t really sure if she was a boy or not. My father told me there were three boys here and one girl — and that’s the girl, isn’t it — in bed there?”

She pointed to Anne. Aunt Fanny nodded. “Yes, that’s Anne. Your father thought George was a boy, that’s why he told you there were three boys and only one girl here, I suppose. The two boys are in the next room.”

“I don’t like George very much,” said Berta. “She doesn’t want me here, does she — or my dog.”

“Oh, you’ll find George great fun when you get to know her,” said Aunt Fanny. “Here she comes now with your soup.”

George came in with the soup, and was not at all pleased to see Timmy standing by the camp-bed, being petted by Berta. She set the soup down sharply, and pushed Timmy away.

“Thank you,” said Berta, and took the soup-cup eagerly into her hands. “What lovely soup!” she said. George got into bed and turned over on her side. She knew she was behaving badly, but the thought of someone daring to bring another dog to live at Kirrin Cottage was more than she could bear.

Timmy leapt up to lie on her feet as usual. Berta looked at this with much approval.

“I’ll have Sally on my feet tomorrow!” she said. “That’s an awfully good idea. Pops — that’s my father — always let me have Sally in my room, but she had to be in her basket, not on my bed. Tomorrow night she can sleep on my feet, like Timmy does on George’s.”