The triumvirate sat under the old cedar tree at Crofts, and once more they discussed the important affairs of the little world at Wootton Beeches. It was the first Saturday in the term; and Auntie Anna, true to her promise, had invited Jean and Angela to drive over and spend it with Barbara. The spring had come in with a rush, and May had dawned in such a flood of warm sunshine that the child was able to pass most of her time on a couch in the garden. The Doctor, in spite of the ten miles that lay between his house and Crofts, came nearly every day to see how she was; and he hinted at a promise of crutches in ten days’ time, after which she was to go away to the seaside and get strong enough to return to school at the half-term. It was very nice, Barbara thought, to see the Doctor so often, now that she was so much better and did not really need him; but Christopher was very sarcastic on the subject.
‘S’pose you think he comes to see you, don’t you?’ he remarked scornfully; and when pressed by Barbara for a more definite explanation of the Doctor’s actions, he condescended to add: ‘Once a chap gets engaged to a girl, it’s the girl who’s at the bottom of everything he does!’
The day was so hot that Kit and Bobbin came out to join the others under the cedar tree, and they flung themselves on the grass in different stages of exhaustion. Now and then, they threw in a lazy contribution to the conversation that was going on over their heads, though at first this related entirely to the number of new girls, the alterations in the classes, and other bits of school gossip. Then, however, it took a personal turn, and Christopher’s comments grew satirical.
‘Has anybody asked after me?’ inquired Barbara.
‘What a question!’ scoffed Christopher. ‘A kid like you!’
‘They have, though,’ declared Jean, making a great effort to overcome her shyness of Barbara Berkeley’s clever brother. ‘Everybody did, first thing. You’d never think the Babe had only been there one term.’
‘Oh, well, that’s because she smashed herself up,’ said Kit, cheerfully. ‘Girls always fuss over you, if you kill yourself ever so little.’
‘They don’t, Kit,’ objected Babs.
‘Guess what Margaret Hulme said about you yesterday,’ put in Angela, eagerly. Angela was not nearly so shy as Jean, and, much to Barbara’s astonishment, Kit found her ‘better fun’ in consequence. It seemed a little strange that the genius of the family should not be able to appreciate the amazing qualities of Jean Murray.
‘What did she say about me?’ asked Barbara, only to be interrupted by another jeer from Christopher.