"Yes. But I want to think by myself, and Auntie Adeline keeps on getting in the way." "Still, she's awfully kind to you, isn't she?" "Awfully." "And you mustn't hurt her feelings." "Have I? I didn't mean to." "You wouldn't if you loved her." "_You_ haven't ever hurt her feelings, have you, Daddy?" "No." "Well, you see, it's because I keep on thinking about Mummy. I want her back--I want her so awfully." "I know, Anne, I know." Anne's mind burrowed under, turning on its tracks, coming out suddenly. "Do you love Auntie Adeline, Daddy?" It was terrible, but he owned that he had brought it on himself. "I can't say. I've known her such a long time; before you were born." "Before you married Mummy!" "Yes." "Well, won't it do if I love Uncle Robert and Eliot and Colin? And Jerrold?" That night he said to Adeline, "I know who'll take my place when I'm gone." "Who? Robert?" "No, Jerrold." In another week he had sailed for India and Ambala. * * * * * viii Jerrold was brave. When Colin upset the schoolroom lamp Jerrold wrapped it in the tablecloth and threw it out of the window just in time. He put the chain on Billy, the sheep-dog, when he went mad and snapped at everybody. It seemed odd that Jerrold should be frightened. A minute ago he had been happy, rolling over and over on the grass, shouting with laughter while Sandy, the Aberdeen, jumped on him, growling his merry puppy's growl and biting the balled fists that pushed him off. They were all out on the lawn. Anne waited for Jerry to get up and take her into Wyck, to buy chocolates. Every time Jerrold laughed his mother laughed too, a throaty, girlish giggle. "I love Jerry's laugh," she said. "It's the nicest noise he makes." Then, suddenly, she stopped it. She stopped it with a word. "If you're going into Wyck, Jerry, you might tell Yearp----" Yearp. He got up. His face was very red. He looked mournful and frightened too. Yes, frightened. "I--can't, Mother." "You can perfectly well. Tell Yearp to come and look at Pussy's ears, I think she's got canker." "She hasn't," said Jerry defiantly. "She jolly well has," said Eliot. "Rot." "You only say that because you don't like to think she's got it." "Eliot can go himself. _He's_ fond of Yearp." "You'll do as you're told, Jerry. It's downright cowardice." "It isn't cowardice, is it, Daddy?" "Well," said his father, "it isn't exactly courage." "Whatever it is," his mother said, "you'll have to get over it. You go on as if nobody cared about poor Binky but yourself." Binky was Jerry's dog. He had run into a motor-bicycle in the Easter holidays and hurt his back, so that Yearp, the vet, had had to come and give him chloroform. That was why Jerrold was afraid of Yearp. When he saw him he saw Binky with his nose in the cup of chloroform; he heard him snorting out his last breath. And he couldn't bear it. "I could send one of the men," his father was saying.