“Don’t we see you again?” Harry asked.
“You may come over to-night if you like—Dad is coming,” Norah said. “Geoff, you haven’t finished, have you?”
“I don’t think I’m very hungry,” Geoffrey said. “May I go and shut up my guinea-pigs?”
“Yes, of course. Alison darling, I don’t think you ought to have any more cakes.”
“I always has free-four-’leven when mother is at home,” said Alison firmly, annexing a chocolate cake and digging her little white teeth into it in the hope of averting any further argument. “Michael doesn’t want more, he had Geoff’s.”
“Geoff’s? But didn’t Geoff eat any?”
“Geoff’s silly to-night,” said his sister. “Fancy not bein’ hungry when there was choc’lit cakes!”
“I hope he didn’t get too tired,” Norah said to herself anxiously. “I’ll hurry up and get them all to bed.”
She bathed Michael and Alison, with Eva in attendance, and tucked them up. They were very sleepy—too sleepy to be troubled that Mother was not there to kiss them good night; indeed, as Norah bent over Michael, he thought she was his mother, and murmured, “Mum-mum,” in the dusk in a little contented voice. Norah put her cheek down to the rose-leaf one for a moment, and then hurried out.
“Geoff! Where are you, Geoff?”