It was, as always, When Irish Eyes are Smiling.

Esther went straight to bed as soon as they returned to the apartment: she was always exhausted after these meetings, with their prolonged concentration and the knowledge that she was under the gaze of a crowd of people; Mrs Bannister’s public cherishing of her was not entirely showmanship … Mrs Bannister looked down at the pale, spent face outlined on the pillow, then bent and kissed her forehead.

“Good night, my darling one,” she said, aloud, squeezing Esther’s arm in the special grip which was their way of expressing their fondness for each other. “You did very well tonight.”

Esther smiled and, reaching up, squeezed Mrs Bannister’s arm in the same fashion, signalling her love. Then her head dropped back on the pillow, and fell to one side. Mrs Bannister knew that she would soon be deeply asleep. But the girl was, thank God, strong and healthy: she had not been ill for a single day, even during the most strenuous tour. There was never any anxiety on that score. Tomorrow she would be as good as new, and ready for anything.

Mrs Bannister put out the bedroom light, and walked through into her own sitting-room. The big silver drink tray had been made ready by the coloured maid, before she left for the night, and Mrs Bannister poured a stiff highball, and carried it to the fireside armchair. The chair and the drink and the warm, comfortable room each welcomed her. This was always the best moment of any day, when the public effort was over, and everything had gone well, and all tiredness fell away. For her, the strain of handling these meetings would never lessen, however proficient she might become – there was so much that could go wrong, quite apart from the skill needed to communicate accurately with Esther. But now it was all left behind, for the rest of the day and the morrow too. Her world contracted, fining down to these small comforts; and gratefully she contracted with it.

It was true, she thought, reviewing the day comfortably – it was true that Esther had done well that evening. The applause at the end was the measure of it, not to speak of the size of the collection … Much of the meeting had been routine, of course; Mrs Bannister knew what the audience had come to see, and the questions they asked – “Are you happy?” “How old are you?” “Do you remember Ireland?” – never varied much. She had developed, for these occasions, a technique of presentation, in which Esther now cooperated admirably. Among other things, it included a series of code grips and touches, which told Esther what she should do, at any given moment.

There was a signal for ‘Sit up’, there was another for ‘Smile’; there was one for ‘Laugh’, and ‘Shake your head’, and ‘Put your arm round me’ … It simplified both their tasks, to a very large extent.