Iris was, of course, known to all the village, but, being motherless, she was something more. Everybody popped out of their cottages to have a word with her, and they obviously knew her foibles.

“Aren’t you dressed up fine today, Miss Iris dearie!” “Been out to tea with the colonel, Miss Iris dear?” And all eyes studied Janet, and behind them she could read the anxious queries. Is she going to be good to her?

Iris sighed when they left the village behind.

“I do simply hate nobody seeing me in this frock.”

Janet was doubtful if she ought to let that pass.

“I expect your friends like you whatever you wear.”

“I expect they like me better when I’m dressed like this instead of my awful check cottons. My mother never wore check cotton, nor, as a matter fac’, organdie either.”

“What did she wear?”

Iris stopped to pull up her socks.

“She looked the very most opposite of you. She never looked all tidy and neat exactly. She wore things very soft; she had a lot of blue frocks, and there was a lovely one that was grey. I called it her Cloud frock. She never plaited my hair for lessons like Gladys does.”

“You were smaller then, perhaps your hair was too short to plait.”

“I could have had little ones, but Mummy wasn’t a plaiting person. Do you know what we used to do sometimes? We used to go out and we would stop where nobody was looking, and Mummy used to take off her shoes and stockings and dance for me. Then, when she had finished, she would stand with her arms stretched out like as if she was getting up after lying down, and she said, ‘That’s better! Now we’ll go home and behave properly.’”

“Come on,” said Janet gently, and opened the gate to the farm road.

Iris caught her arm.

“I know I’m not dressed right, but could you swing me?”

Janet laughed.

“Don’t you dare tear your frock or I shall be spanked!” Iris climbed to the top of the gate and sat astride it, her skirts spread round her. Janet gave the gate a push. It swung easily. Iris squealed with pleasure.

“Let’s sing,” she shouted.

“What?” Janet called back.

“Something like swinging. Girls and boys come out to play.”

Janet knew that one, and together they made a gay, if not very tuneful noise, and in Janet’s case, towards the end, it was rather breathless.

“There,” she said as the song finished. “Come down, darling.”

Donald startled them both.

“I should say so!” He lifted his daughter off the gate. “What a way to treat my hinges!”

Iris put her hand in her father’s and held out the other to Janet.

“We’ve had a lovely time. The colonel’s ulcer is still there.”

Donald looked across the child to Janet.

“Pretty tiring for you.”

She shook her head.