"My poor little Audrey."
I pressed my arms still tighter round her.
"Mother," I said, "I heard you say something about me. Mother, I do love you—you said I wasn't affectionate, but I'm sure I love you."
"Poor little Audrey," she said again. "I am sorry you heard that. You must not think I meant that you don't love me. I cannot quite make you understand how I meant, but I did not mean that. And oh, Audrey, how glad I am to think that you love the boys so much. You are a very kind sister to them, and you do not know what a comfort it is to me just now to think of that."
"Do you mean because of your going away, mother?" I asked. "Will you really go away? Will it be for a long time, mother? As long as a month, or two months?"
"Yes," said mother, "quite as long as that I am afraid. But you must go to sleep now, dear. You are not quite well yet, you know, and you will be so tired to-morrow if you don't have a good night. Try and not think any more about what you heard to-night; and to-morrow, or as soon as I can, I will tell you more."
"I did hear more," I said in a low voice, "I heard about our going to uncle Geoff's. Mother, is uncle Geoff nice?"
"Very," said mother. "But, Audrey, you must go to sleep, dear."
"Yes, mother, I will in one minute," I said. "But do tell me just one thing, please do."
Mother turned towards me again. She had just been preparing to lift Racey.