In the day-time she went about looking for him. "Where's Nicky?" she said. "I want him."
"Nicky's in the schoolroom. You can't have him."
"But--I want him."
"Can't be helped. You must do without him."
"Will he be very long?"
"Yes, ever so long. Run away like a good little girl and play with Don-Don."
She knew that they told her to play with Don-Don, because she was a little girl. If only she could grow big quick and be the same age as Nicky.
Instead of running away and playing with Don-Don, Ronny went away by herself into the apple-tree house, to wait for Nicky.
The apple-tree house stood on the grass-plot at the far end of the kitchen garden. The apple-tree had had no apples on it for years. It was so old that it leaned over at a slant; it stretched out two great boughs like twisted arms, and was propped up by a wooden post under each armpit. The breast of its trunk rested on a cross-beam. The posts and the cross-beam were the doorway of the house, and the branches were its roof and walls. Anthony had given it to Veronica to live in, and Veronica had given it to Nicky. It was Nicky's and Ronny's house. The others were only visitors who were not expected to stay. There was room enough for them both to stand up inside the doorway, to sit down in the middle, and to lie flat at the far end.
"What more," said Nicky, "do you want?"