“No, it won’t,” Alf said, balancing on a rail.

“You don’t know that. Come up here immediately.”

The two children climbed up onto the platform. They were both filthy. Alf’s usual runny nose had produced a dirty smear, and his shirt was half out of his trousers. Eleven-year-old Binnie looked just as draggled, her stockings bunched, her hair ribbon untied and the ends hanging down. “Wipe your nose, Alf,” Eileen said. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you two in school?”

Alf wiped his nose on his sleeve and pointed at Theodore. “’E’s not in school.”

“That’s beside the point. What are you doing here?”

“We seen you goin’ by,” Binnie said.

Alf nodded. “We thought you was leavin’.”

“I didn’t,” Binnie said. “I thought she was going off to meet somebody. Like Una done.” She smiled slyly at Eileen.

“You ain’t leavin’, are you?” Alf asked, looking at Theodore’s suitcase. “We don’t want you to. You’re the only one wot’s nice to us, you are. Mrs. Bascombe and Una ain’t.”

“Una sneaks off to meet a soldier,” Binnie said. “In the woods.”

Alf nodded. “We followed ’er on ’er half-day out.”

Binnie shot him such a deadly look that Eileen wondered if they’d been following her on her half-day as well. She’d have to make certain they were in school next week. If that were possible. The vicar, Mr. Goode-a serious young man-had already been to the manor twice to discuss their repeated truancies. “They seem to be having difficulty adapting to life here,” he’d said.

Eileen thought they’d adapted all too well. Within two days of their having been chosen by Lady Caroline (she had clearly failed to recognize the “nice” ones in their case), they’d mastered apple stealing, bull teasing, vegetable garden trampling, and leaving open every gate in a ten-mile radius. “It’s too bad this evacuation scheme doesn’t work both ways,” Mrs. Bascombe had said. “I’d evacuate them back to London with a luggage label round their necks in a minute. Little hooligans.”