“His name is Jock, and Mummy’s fox terrier is Amy. Oh, they’ll all like you, all right; they’re as friendly as possible—though Amy can be a bit peevish at moments; Mummy spoils her.—Here’s your room,” said Rosemary, ushering her in. “It’s a jolly room, isn’t it? Mummy thought you’d like the one with the view best. The other spare-room looks over the kitchen-garden. It’s a jolly view, isn’t it? One doesn’t often get a view like that. Put the box here, Edie.—Oh, the bathroom is on the landing, that door, you see. We have our baths in the morning and the water doesn’t run very hot for more than two. So will you have yours at night? Mummy does. Ruth and I like it best in the morning, and Giles doesn’t mind if his is cold.—French people don’t care about baths, anyway, do they?—Lunch will be ready in twenty minutes. Can you find your way down?” Rosemary added rapidly, her eye on the staircase where Giles was descending, “I want to speak to Giles.” “No, you don’t! It’s my place to tell him first!” screamed Ruth. “It’s about the football, Giles!” “Oh, shut up!” shouted Giles affectionately. “What a frightful row you’re making!” And Alix at last heard them all hurtling down the stairs together. Jock, who was old and a little melancholy, remained with her, seating himself on the hearth rug and surveying her with kindly but disenchanted eyes. “_Dieu! Quel bruit!_” Alix addressed him. She felt that Jock agreed with her about the noise and in finding Ruth and Rosemary, as well as Bobby, too turbulent. She listened at the door to be sure that they were safely gone. Then she tiptoed softly down and peeped in at the bathroom. It was large and untidy. She, too, preferred her bath hot and in the morning. Ruth and Rosemary were kind, but your preferences would never stand in the way of theirs. No, never would she find them interesting. But they did not ask it of you, Alix reflected, going back to her room. All they asked of you was to let them bathe at the time that best pleased them, play hockey with them, and admire their view. She went to look at the view. A pleasant, heathery common dipping at its further edge to a birch-wood. That was all. And another gabled roof rose among pines on a near hillside. All comfort; no beauty, thought Alix, and the sky came so closely down that it made her feel suffocated. And as she leaned looking out she thought of the roll of the mighty Juras, and the plain, and the river shining across it. How tame this was, a piping, perching little bird beside an eagle of great flights and soarings. Why had Maman sent her here? She could never be happy; never, never, under this low sky, among these noisy girls. And wave after wave there mounted in her an old, well-remembered homesickness for Maman and a new homesickness for France. CHAPTER V