Janet had
someone to see in the village; Tom persuaded Rosamund that they would
still be welcome at the tennis-party; Betty stayed to clear the table.
She, alone of them all, was glad of even this short respite, for, as the
day had gone on, she had begun to dread the meeting inexpressibly. She
knew that even Tom--who had only been seven years old when Godfrey went
away--would be wondering how she felt, and watching to see how she would
behave. It was a comfort to be alone with only Timmy who was still at
table eating steadily. Till recently tea had been Timmy's last meal,
though, as a matter of fact, he had nearly always joined in their very
simple evening meal. And lately it had been ordained that he was to eat
meat. But much as he ate, he never grew fat.
"Hurry up!" said Betty absently. "I want to take off the table-cloth. We
can wash up presently."
Timmy got up and shook himself; then he went across to the window, Flick
following him, while Betty after having made two tray journeys into the
kitchen, folded up the table-cloth. Timmy might have done this last
little job, but he pretended not to see that his sister wanted help. He
thought it such a shame that he wasn't now allowed the perilous and
exciting task of carrying a laden tray.
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