"Oh, my dears," she cried, 'you don't know how happy you've made me.

I shall so enjoy having a son and daughter we're going to be very

happy!

' Jacomina smiled at her from a blotchy face and Sarel grinned.

"Oh, super!

' He ate a biscuit and Jacomina ate one too.

Alethea was so happy that she recoiled only slightly when Caesar's

ratty face appeared from under Sarel's pyjama sleeve.

She recovered at once and gave him such an enthusiastic greeting that Sarel insisted that the beast should sit on her hand.

She bore this high honour with fort.i.tude until the children went away

to dress, bearing Caesar with them, much to her relief.

She was drinking another cup of tea to restore her nerves when there was a second tap on the door.

Surely this time it would be Sarre?

It was Nanny.

She came and stood by the bed and burst into speech, repeating herself so often that Alethea managed to understand her quite well.

Nanny was deeply sorry for her manner towards Mcvrouw.

She hoped that she wouldn't be sent away, if Mevrouw could understand

that she loved the children.

She had been a wicked old woman and only now did she realise how wrong she had been to reject Mevrouw's kindness and friendship.

Alethea caught her hand and held it, frowning over her Dutch, anxious

to get it right.

"And they love you.

Nanny.

You must never leave us, it's unthinkable--you're important to them and

we trust you, you must know that.

' She paused to dig up a few more words.

"If I had been you," said Alethea, "T should have done exactly the same thing.

' She leant up and kissed the old woman's cheek.

"Friends," she said.

Two difficult tears rolled down Nanny's cheeks.

"Friends, Mevrouw," she repeated, 'for always.

' It was still quite early.

Alethea got up and dressed and went downstairs to find Sarre and the

children already at their breakfast.

Sarre got to his feet at once.

"My dear, I expected you to stay in bed.

' "I'm not ill, thank you," she gave him a sunny smile, 'only sore.

' The children rushed to get her coffee and toast and she watched his

mouth curve in a faint smile although he didn't say anything, only

presently he excused himself with the information that he would be home for lunch and perhaps they could have a little talk then.

Alethea agreed happily; her day was perfect, or almost so.

Nothing would be perfect of course unless Sarre loved her, and as he wasn't likely to do that she would have to make the best of a bad job, but to have the children's affection was something.

and Nanny.

She felt as though she had conquered Mount Everest.

Her state of euphoria lasted until lunchtime when Sarre came home,

inspected her cuts and bruises, p.r.o.nounced them satisfactory and then, over lunch, informed her that he had her tickets.

"My tickets?

' Alethea gaped at him.

She had quite forgotten all about his suggestion that she should go to England; indeed, she hadn't really taken it seriously, only agreed with it out of pique.

She said now, a piece of toast poised halfway to her mouth: "You weren't serious?

' He nodded.

"By boat--you prefer that, don't you?

' "But Sarre, I can't go--I simply can't--you must see that.

The children you, know.

They-want me.

' She smiled suddenly at the mere thought.

Somehow it made her relationship with him much closer now that his children had accepted her.

"But I want you to go, Alethea.

' He smiled at her, but she could see the arrogance in his face, she saw the tiredness there too.

He looked much older, she discovered with a shock; it must have scared him badly when the children had disappeared, although he hadn't shown it.

"Why?

' she asked him baldly.

"Need we go into that?

I think we both know the reason.

I know that the children are important, but this is even more so--how

could you ever be completely happy?

' He stared at her.

"I'm right, am I not?

You aren't happy, even though the children have admitted at last that

they're fond of you.

' She had put the toast down and was staring at her plate.

"No, I'm not," she mumbled, 'but I don't want to go.

And even if I went.