‘Come to say good-night, Bets?’ she said, looking at the clock. ‘Did you have a nice time at Fatty’s?’
‘Yes! We played his new game, Woo-hoo-colly-wobbles,’ said Bets. ‘It was fun.’
‘I expect it was noisy and ridiculous if it was anything to do with Frederick,’ said her mother. ‘What’s that you’ve got, Bets?’
‘Oh Mother, it’s a book that Gladys lent me,’ said Bets. ‘I was going to ask Mrs. Moon her address so that I could send it to her. Could I have a stamp, Mother!’
‘You don’t need to ask Mrs. Moon,’ said her mother. ‘I’ll see that Gladys gets it.’
‘Oh,’ said Bets. ‘Well - I’ll just put her address on it. I’ve written her name. What’s her address, Mother?’
‘I’ll write it,’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘Now don’t stand there putting off time, Bets. Go up to bed. Leave the parcel here.’
‘Oh, do let me just write the address,’ said poor Bets, feeling that her wonderful idea was coming to nothing, and that it wasn’t fair. ‘I feel like writing, Mother.’
‘Well, it must be for the first time in your life then!’ said Mrs. Hilton. ‘You’ve always said how much you hate writing before. Go up to bed, Bets, now.’
Bets had to go. She left the book on the table by her mother, feeling rather doleful. But perhaps Pip would see the address later on in the evening, if her mother wrote it on the parcel.