“I’m afraid Gladys is going to give me a work-basket for my birthday. I saw something that she put away in a hurry, and it was what it looked like.”

“You need a work-basket.”

“If everybody has to have one I do, because I haven’t got one, but if birthday presents are meant to be things people like to have, then it isn’t a good idea at all.”

“It’s nice of Gladys to think of you.”

“Do you know, I was ’traordinary surprised that she thought of having Janet to supper on my birthday night. I wasn’t so surprised about Sheila, but I was about Janet.”

“I expect it was your idea.”

“No, it wasn’t. She told me and Daddy she’d thought of it; it was specially s’prising because she doesn’t love Janet, not like me and Daddy do.”

Maggie’s eyes twinkled.

“Daddy and I,” she corrected. “I’m glad you’re fond of her. So am I.”

“Mothers are always fond of their children.” Iris’ voice was reproving. “It’s different for Daddy an’ me . . .”

Maggie heard Janet’s step. She laid her hand on Iris’ arm.

“Go on with your hemming, here’s Janet. I shall get into trouble if she finds we are not working.”

Janet had milk for Iris and Maggie.

“There’s a letter for Sheila,” she said. “It’s from N.A.A.F.I.” She put a table beside the sofa. “Sit up, dears. There are ginger-nuts this morning.”

Iris took her glass in both hands.

“Goody, goody!”

“That sounds like Sheila now,” said Maggie.

Sheila lounged in.

“Hullo, Iris! I hear your uncle’s coming home.”

Iris beamed.

“Yes. Last time he came we made a fire of bricks and mud and cooked soup.”

“Do you know when he’s coming?”

“No, but it’s soon. Perhaps in two weeks, Daddy thinks.” Janet took a letter out of her pocket.

“This has come for you, Sheila.”

Sheila took it and stared at the envelope. She turned a horrified face to her mother.

“It’s from N.A.A.F.I.”

Maggie smiled encouragingly.

“So I see. Don’t look so startled. You knew you’d hear soon.”

Sheila seemed a child again.

“I can’t go. Not now.”

Maggie was touched; she held out a hand.

“Come here, goose, let’s open it together.”

Sheila came unwillingly to the sofa, she handed the envelope to Maggie. She turned a pleading face to Janet.

“I can’t go.”

Janet put an arm round her.

“Don’t fuss; I expect it will be awful fun once you get used to it.”

“You’re travelling on Monday,” said Maggie. “They’ve sent you a ticket and all.”

Sheila had turned white.

“I can’t go.”

Maggie and Janet exchanged looks.

“Come on, darling, keep your chin up,” Janet urged, and gave Sheila’s shoulders a press.