Jenny’s spurt of independence did not last. She packed the suit-case with Mrs. Forbes standing over her.

“Your toothbrush, Jenny-and the toothpaste-and what else?”

“My face-cloth,” said Jenny in the obedient voice of a little girl.

“That’s right-put them in. Do you use a hot-water bottle?”

Jenny stood quite still and stared at her. The pupils of her eyes were larger than usual. It seemed to her that Mrs. Forbes’ voice came from a long way off. It seemed to her as if she was floating in the air. It was with a great effort that she could come down and touch the things she needed.

The voice went on. It was Mrs. Forbes’ voice. It said things like “You’ll need your bedroom slippers, and your dressing-gown, and your night things. That dress you’ve got on will do to wear again tomorrow. Now your brush and comb-and that, I think, is all.”

Jenny placed all the things in the suit-case neatly.

When they were walking up the drive together Mrs. Forbes asked her whether she had had anything to eat. She had to stop and think about that before she answered. Everything seemed so long ago and so far away, but when she got down to it she remembered that she and Miss Adamson had had tea at five o’clock, and that Miss Adamson had made her eat an egg. It felt like a long time ago-a long, long time. Garsty was alive then. It felt as if she had come a long way from the kettle boiling and Miss Adamson speaking cheerfully. It was a long, long way, and there was a gap in the middle of it which she could never cross over.

Mrs. Forbes asked her question again, “When did you have anything to eat?” and this time Jenny answered it.

“At five. We had tea. Miss Adamson boiled me an egg.”

“Then you had better get straight to bed,” said Mrs. Forbes briskly. “Carter can bring you up a cup of hot milk.”

They came into the lighted hall. There was neither sight nor sound of the little girls, only Carter stout and flurried.