"Yes, all that sort of thing. George was having scarlet fever—in a London hospital—so of course he was quite out of it."
"Then, at last Godfrey reopened communication via Timmy?" suggested the younger boy.
"Timmy's got the letter still," chimed in Rosamund. "I saw it in his play-box the other day. It was rather a funny letter—I read it."
"The devil you did!" from Tom, indignantly.
She went on unruffled:—"He said he'd been left a fortune, and wanted to share it with his godson. How much did he send? D'you remember?" She looked round.
"Five pounds!" said Dolly.
"I wish I was his godson," said Tom.
"And then," went on Dolly, in her precise way, "the War came, and nothing more happened till suddenly he wrote again to Timmy from Egypt, and then began the presents. I wonder if we ought to have thanked him for them? After all, we don't know that they came from him. The only present we know came from him was Flick."
"And a damned silly present, too!" observed Jack, drily.
"Do you think he's still in love with Betty?" asked Rosamund.