“And then I shall ask him for whatever is necessary,” said their mother firmly. She sighed suddenly and got up. “Run along, children, and ask Miss Wade to dress you and get ready herself and then come down to the dining-room. And now, Susannah, you are not to let go Miss Wade’s hand from the moment you are through the gates until you are out again.”
“Well—what if I go on a horse?” inquired Susannah.
“Go on a horse—nonsense, child! You’re much too young for horses! Only big girls and boys can ride.”
“There’s roosters for small children,” said Susannah undaunted. “I know, because Irene Heywood went on one and when she got off she fell over.”
“All the more reason why you shouldn’t go on,” said her mother.
But Susannah looked as though falling over had no terrors for her. On the contrary.
About the exhibition, however, Sylvia and Phyllis knew as little as Susannah. It was the first that had ever come to their town. One morning, as Miss Wade, their lady help, rushed them along to the Heywoods’, whose governess they shared, they had seen carts piled with great long planks of wood, sacks, what looked like whole doors, and white flagstaffs, passing through the wide gate of the Recreation Ground. And by the time they were bowled home to their dinners, there were the beginnings of a high thin fence, dotted with flagstaffs, built all round the railings. From inside, came a tremendous noise of hammering, shouting, clanging; a little engine, hidden away, went Chuff-chuff-chuff. Chuff! And round, woolly balls of smoke were tossed over the palings.
First it was the day after the day after tomorrow, then plain day after tomorrow, then tomorrow, and at last, the day itself. When Susannah woke up in the morning, there was a little gold spot of sunlight watching her from the wall; it looked as though it had been there for a long time, waiting to remind her: “It’s today—you’re going today—this afternoon. Here she is!”