Part 29 (1/2)

”She scolded you,” he rejoined obstinately.

”Not really, Tony; she didn't mean to scold.”

Tony looked very hard at Jan.

In silence they stared at one another for quite a minute. Jan got up off the seat.

”Let's go and find the others,” she said.

”She is a very proud cook,” Tony remarked once more.

Jan sighed.

That night while she was getting ready for bed Tony woke up. His cot was placed so that he could see into Jan's room, and the door between was always left open. She was standing before the dressing-table, taking down her hair.

Unlike the bedrooms at the flat, the room was not cold though both the windows were open. Wren's End was never cold, though always fresh, for one of Anthony's earliest improvements had been a boiler-house and central heating, with radiators set under the windows, so that they could always stand open.

Jan had not put on her dressing-gown, and her night-dress had rather short, loose sleeves that fell back from her arms as she raised them.

He watched the white arm wielding the brush with great pleasure; he decided he liked to look at it.

”Auntie Jan!”

She turned and flung her hair back from her face in a great silver cloud.

”You awake, sonny! Did I make a noise?”

”No, I just woke. Auntie Jan, will Daddie ever come here?”

”I expect so.”

”Well, listen. If he does, he shan't take your things, your pretty twinkly things. I won't let him.”

Jan stood as if turned to stone.

”He took Mummy's. I saw him; I couldn't stop him, I was so little. But she _said_--she said it twice before she went away from that last bungalow--she said: 'Take care of Auntie Jan, Tony; don't let Daddie take her things.' So I won't.”

Tony was sitting up. His room was all in darkness; two candles were lit on Jan's dressing-table. He could see her, but she couldn't see him.

She came to him, stooped over him, and laid her cheek against his so that they were both veiled with her hair. ”Darling, I don't think poor Daddie would want to take my things. You must try not to think hardly of Daddie.”

Tony parted the veil of hair with a gentle hand so that they could both see the candles.

”You don't know my Daddie ... much,” he said, ”do you?”

Jan shuddered.

”I saw him,” he went on in his queer little unemotional voice. ”I saw him take all her pretty twinkly things; and her silver boxes. I'm glad I sleep here.”