"Don't worry, Frances. If Morrie comes home he'll be sent out again, that's all."
"At your expense."
"I don't grudge any expense in sending Morrie out. Nor in keeping him out."
"Yes. But this time it's different. It's worse."
"Why worse?"
"Because of the children. They're older now than they were last time. They'll understand."
"What if they do? They must learn," Anthony said, "to realize facts."
They realized them rather sooner than he had expected. Nobody but Louie had allowed for the possibility of Morrie's sailing by the same steamer as his letter; and Louie had argued that, if he had done so, he was bound either to have arrived before the letter or to have sent a wire. Therefore they had at least a clear five days of peace before them. Anthony thought he had shown wisdom when, the next morning which was a Wednesday, he sent Grannie and the Aunties to Eastbourne for a week, so that they shouldn't worry Frances, and when on Thursday he made her go with him for a long day in the country, to take her mind off Morrie.
They came back at nine in the evening and found Dorothy, Michael and Nicholas sitting up for them. Michael and Nicky were excited, but Dorothy looked grown-up and important.
"Uncle Morrie's come," they said.