Ginevra wags her head to indicate that this is another slice of Life; and nurse being called in is confronted with the telegram. She runs a gamut of emotion without words, implies that she is nobody and must submit, nods humbly, sets her teeth, is both indignant and servile, and finally bursts into tears. Amy tries to comfort her, but gets this terrible answer: ‘They’ll be bringing a black woman to nurse her--a yah-yah they call them.’ Amy signs to Ginevra, and Ginevra signs to Amy. These two souls perfectly understand each other, and the telegraphy means that it will be better for dear Ginevra to retire for a time to dear Amy’s sweet little bedroom. Amy slips the diary into the hand of Ginevra, who pops upstairs with it to read the latest instalment. Nurse rambles on. ‘I have had her for seventeen months. She was just two months old, the angel, when they sent her to England, and she has been mine ever since. The most of them has one look for their mammas and one look for their nurse, but she knew no better than to have both looks for me.’ She returns to the nursery, wailing ‘My reign is over.’ ‘Do you think Molly _will_ chuck nurse for mother?’ asks Cosmo, to whom this is a new thought. ‘It is the way of children,’ the more experienced Amy tells him. ‘Shabby little beasts,’ the man says. ‘You mustn’t say that, Cosmo; but still it is hard on nurse. Of course,’ with swimming eyes, ‘in a sense it’s hard on all of us--I mean to be expecting parents in these circumstances. There must be almost the same feeling of strangeness in the house as when it is a baby that is expected.’ ‘I suppose it is a bit like that,’ Cosmo says gloomily. He goes to her as the awfulness of this sinks into him: ‘Great Scott, Amy, it can’t be quite so bad as that.’ Amy, who is of a very affectionate nature, is glad to have the comfort of his hand. ‘What do we really know about mother, Cosmo?’ she says darkly. They are perhaps a touching pair. ‘There are her letters, Amy.’ ‘Can one know a person by letters? Does she know you, Cosmo, by your letters to her, saying that your motto is “Something attempted, something done to earn a night’s repose,” and so on.’ ‘Well, I thought that would please her.’ ‘Perhaps in her letters she says things just to please us.’ Cosmo wriggles. ‘This is pretty low of you, damping a fellow when he was trying to make the best of it.’ ‘All I want you to feel,’ Amy says, getting closer to him, ‘is that as brother and sister, we are allies, you know--against the unknown.’ ‘Yes, Amy,’ Cosmo says, and gets closer to her. This so encourages her that she hastens to call him ‘dear.’ ‘I want to say, dear, that I’m very sorry I used to shirk bowling to you.’ ‘That’s nothing. I know what girls are. Amy, it’s all right, I really am fond of you.’ ‘I have tried to be a sort of mother to you, Cosmo.’ ‘My socks and things--I know.’ Returning anxiously to the greater question, ‘Amy, do we know anything of them at all?’