Everyone was hungry, and did full justice to “Brownie’s” forethought; while Norah, behind the tall teapot, declared that it was a job for two men and a boy to pour out for such a thirsty trio. Harry helped the fruit salad, and Harry’s helpings were based on his own hunger, and would have suited Goliath. Finally, Norah cut the cake with great ceremony, and Wally’s proposal that everyone should retire to the lawn with a “chunk” was carried unanimously.
Out on the grass they lay and chattered, while the dusk came down, and slowly a pale moon climbed up into the sky. Norah alone was silent. After a while Harry and Wally declared they must go and pack, and Jim and his sister were left alone.
Wally and Harry scurried down the hail. The sound of their merry voices died away, and there was silence on the lawn.
Jim rolled nearer to Norah.
“Blue, old girl?”
“‘M,” said a muffled voice.
Jim felt for her hand in the darkness—and found it. The small, brown fingers closed tightly round his rough paw.
“I know,” he said comprehendingly. “I’m awfully sorry, old woman. I do wish we hadn’t to go.”
There was no answer. Jim knew why—and also knowing perfectly well that tears would mean the deepest shame, he talked on without requiring any response.
“Beastly hard luck,” he said. “We don’t want to go a bit—fancy school after this! Ugh! But there are three of us, so it isn’t so bad. It wouldn’t matter if Dad was at home, for you. But I must say it’s lowdown to be leaving you all by your lonely little self.”