“Thank you, I don’t want anything.” Janet pushed Iris’ chair a little nearer the table. It was all right where it was, but in the gesture she intended to show she too had authority over the child. Evidently Gladys was not only house-proud in the way she kept a home, but over food; she was one of those women who do not like to see people in her kitchen without a cup of something in their hands. She paid no attention to what Janet said, but with a flare of colour in her cheeks, poured out a cup of coffee, and with a you-dare-not-to-drink-that look, put it in front of Janet. Janet was cross with herself for the number of times her hackles had stood up that morning. She was cross, too, with herself for the way she had pushed in Iris’ chair. She was being petty, and it was foreign to her nature. She stirred the sugarless coffee and managed to smile. Gladys, who was turning back to her pots and pans, hesitated as if she would like to say something, and from the softness round her mouth something friendly. Then her mind changed, and she was back at her stove making an unnecessary clatter with a saucepan lid.

Janet thought that enough time had been spent indoors; the moment Iris had swallowed her last crumb, and had gulped her last drop of milk, she had her out of doors, and the rest of the morning was spent on what Iris grandly described as ‘bot’ny’, which meant that Janet picked every flower she could see and asked Iris what its name was. Dinner at the farm, Janet learned, was at one o’clock. As the time drew nearer her sandwiches became important. She could not, she told herself, face a drawn-out meal with either Gladys or Donald; she would like the time to herself sitting under a haystack. She was not going to be about at dinner-time, but if the question of where she should eat arose, she would say right out she preferred having the time to herself. She took Iris in at a quarter to one and brushed and replaited her hair, and saw her wash her hands, then she gave her a kiss.

“Read a book until you are called, darling. I’ll be back to tuck you up for your lie-down after dinner.”

“Where are you going to have dinner?”

“Outside, I’ve brought sandwiches. Look!” Janet held up her parcel.

Iris looked worried.

“It sounds awfully queer to me your sitting outside eating and us inside.”

“It isn’t, really; be a good girl and run down directly Gladys calls you.”