“Do you suppose Timmy is feeling very upset?” she said, when she and Anne were in bed.

“A bit, perhaps,” said Anne. “But dogs are very forgiving.”

“I know. That somehow makes it worse,” said George.

“Well, you really shouldn’t get into such tempers,” said Anne, seizing the opportunity to tell George a few home-truths. “I thought you were getting over the tantrums you used to have. But these holls you’ve been pretty bad. Because of Berta, I suppose.”

“I wish I could go up and say good night to Timmy,” George began again, after a few minutes silence.

“Oh for goodness sake, George!” said Anne, sleepily. “Do be sensible. You can’t go and bang at Joan’s door and ask for Timmy — you’d scare them to death!”

Anne fell asleep, but George didn’t. Then suddenly she heard the sound of a door being unlocked, and sat up. It sounded as if it came from the attic. Was it Joan unlocking her door? What did she want?

A cautious little knock came at George’s door. “Who is it?” said George.

“Me. Joan,” said Joan’s voice. “I’ve brought Sally down, Miss George. Timmy keeps trying to get up on Miss Berta’s bed to be with Sally, and she simply can’t go to sleep, her camp-bed is too small to hold all three of them. So will you have Sally, please?”

“Oh blow!” said George, and went to open her door. “How’s Timmy?” she said, in a low voice.

“All right,” said Joan. “He’ll be annoyed I’ve taken Sally away. I’m glad to have him up here tonight with all these goings on!”

“Is he — is he happy, Joan?” asked George, but Joan had turned away and didn’t hear. George sighed. Why had she offered to let Joan and Berta have Timmy tonight of all nights, when she had scolded him so unfairly? Now she had got to have this silly little Sally instead!

Sally whimpered. She didn’t like being away from Berta, and she was not fond of George. She wriggled out of George’s arms and ran round the room, still whimpering.

Anne woke up with a jump. “Whatever’s going on?” she said. “Why — it’s Sally in the room! How did she get here?”

George told her, sounding very cross. “Well, I hope she’ll settle down,” said Anne. “I don’t want her to whimper and run round the bedroom all night long.”

But Sally wouldn’t settle down. Her whimpering became louder, and when she took a flying jump on to George’s bed and landed right on George’s middle, the girl had had enough of it. She sat up and spoke in a fierce whisper.

“You little idiot! I’m jolly well going to take you downstairs and put you into Timmy’s kennel!”

“Good idea,” said Anne, sleepily. George picked up the lively little poodle and went out of the room, shutting the door softly. Anne promptly went to sleep again.

George crept down the stairs and went to the garden door. She undid it and walked out in dressing-gown and pyjamas, her curly hair all tousled, carrying the whimpering little dog.