‘Yes,’ he said, staring at me in a hopeless sort of way, ‘and poems too.’
‘Is Bobby going up among the stars?’ asked Bobby.
‘Yes,’ said Andy—‘if Bobby’s good.’
‘And auntie?’
‘Yes.’
‘And mumma?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going, Andy?’
‘Yes,’ said Andy hopelessly.
‘Did you see daddy go up amongst the stars, Andy?’