"This is us," said Mrs. Warrender, pushing open the latter. "Not all our rooms are this side - you see, the two parts of the building are joined by this bridge over our heads - but you must always use this door and keep out of the way of the guests. We open on Monday, but I did want you down here first, and we're practically ready now, thanks to Fred and, I suppose, to Mr. Grandon."

"Who's Mr. Grandon?" asked Jon as they stepped into a dark little hall.

"Oh, he's the manager. I'll tell you about him later. He's out now... Come and see your rooms."

Penny soon lost count of the corners they turned, the corridors they walked and the stairs they went up and down before they reached Jon's room. He didn't say much when he saw it. Just "Thank you, Mum. It's great!" But they both knew how thrilled he was.

The window, as Mrs. Warrender had tried to explain in her letter, jutted over the pavement so that it was possible to see up the street, over the edge of the cliff to the mouth of the river and the sea and right out over the grassy levels across the Marsh.

There were shelves round the walls for his books, which had yet to be unpacked from the two heavy corded boxes at the foot of the bed, a dressing-table with lots of drawers and a small desk in the window.

"I think, if you don't mind," he said, "I'll move things round a bit and put the bed right in the window. I'd like to sleep there so that if I lift my head at night I'll be able to see the lighthouse flashing."

"Arrange it as you like, Jon," his mother said. "I knew you'd have your own ideas... Now come and see Penny's rabbit hutch."

So they all squeezed along another narrow passage and up a short but narrow twisty staircase.

"You're in a different part of the house now, but I was so sure Penny would like this little room that I had to keep it for her. Here we are! Mind your head, Jon. The doorway is low."

Penny gasped with excitement. It was certainly a tiny room, but it was gay with chintz, and there were flowers on the window-ledge by the fluttering curtains and on the little dressing-table with its dainty frill. And on the bedspread by the pillow was the sad-looking and now very thin white teddy bear, who had gone to bed regularly with Penny until not so very long ago. Suddenly her eyes filled with tears and she dared not trust herself to speak. They were so decent to her! They were such darlings! Only Auntie and Jon understood what it was like to have a real mother and father so far away that, except for snaps and letters, they were not real at all. And now this lovely little room!