"Go where?" he asked. "Can I come, too?"
"Don't you worry, sonny dear," mummy said, and her voice sounded flat and tired. "I don't for one moment suppose they'll want me. I only wish they would. 'That's all shove be'ind me—long ago and far away,'" she quoted, while Major Booth shook his head in violent dissent.
They talked of other things that did not particularly interest Robin till he went away, but as Major Booth ran down the verandah steps he had called out: "Mind, it's a bandabost! You come if you're asked for."
Robin remembered that very distinctly.
When they had been four weeks at the Vicarage, when they were just settling down to the quiet life there, the summons came.
It seems that Robin's mummy, before there was any Robin or Jean or even daddy, had been a particularly first-class surgical nurse, and not only that, but an Army nurse. She never talked about it, but Major Booth had discovered it soon after she came to India with daddy. They were out in camp, and there was a bad accident to one of the soldiers, and mummy just took charge and helped Major Booth as only a skilful nurse can help.
After that, if sudden illness or accidents occurred where no trained nurses were handy, people rather got into the way of sending for mummy to lend a hand.
And now they had sent for her to nurse wounded soldiers at a base hospital.
She explained this to Robin the night before she left, as he sat on her knee all ready for bed in front of the nursery fire. He remembered the feel of the nursery fender, the warm wire bars, as he pressed his feet against them.
Mummy did not deny that she was immensely proud and glad to go—it was such an honour to be allowed to do anything—but she hated leaving Robin and Jean. Still, in war we must all give up something. He had to give up his daddy and his mummy—"a good deal for a little boy," she added.