I

Frances Harrison was sitting out in the garden under the tree that her husband called an ash-tree, and that the people down in her part of the country called a tree of Heaven.

It was warm under the tree, and Frances might have gone to sleep there and wasted an hour out of the afternoon, if it hadn’t been for the children.

Dorothy, Michael and Nicholas were going to a party, and Nicky was excited.  She could hear Old Nanna talking to Michael and telling him to be a good boy.  She could hear young Mary-Nanna singing to Baby John.  Baby John was too young himself to go to parties; so to make up for that he was riding furiously on Mary-Nanna’s knee to the tune of the “Bumpetty-Bumpetty Major!”

It was Nicky’s first party.  That was why he was excited.

He had asked her for the third time what it would be like; and for the third time she had told him.  There would be dancing and a Magic Lantern, and a Funny Man, and a Big White Cake covered with sugar icing and Rosalind’s name on it in pink sugar letters and eight little pink wax candles burning on the top for Rosalind’s birthday.  Nicky’s eyes shone as she told him.

Dorothy, who was nine years old, laughed at Nicky.

“Look at Nicky,” she said, “how excited he is!”

And every time she laughed at him his mother kissed him.

“I don’t care,” said Nicky.  “I don’t care if I am becited!”

And for the fifth time he asked, “When will it be time to go?”

“Not for another hour and a half, my sweetheart.”

“How long,” said Nicky, “is an hour and a half?”

* * * * *

Frances had a tranquil nature and she never worried.  But as she sat under her tree of Heaven a thought came that made a faint illusion of worry for her mind.  She had forgotten to ask Grannie and Auntie Louie and Auntie Emmeline and Auntie Edie to tea.

She had come to think of them like that in relation to her children rather than to her or to each other.

It was a Tuesday, and they had not been there since Friday.  Perhaps, she thought, I’d better send over for them now.  Especially as it’s such a beautiful afternoon.  Supposing I sent Michael?

And yet, supposing Anthony came home early?  He was always kind to her people, but that was the very reason why she oughtn’t to let them spoil a beautiful afternoon for him.  It could not be said that any of them was amusing.

She could still hear Mary-Nanna singing her song about the Bumpetty-Bumpetty Major.  She could still hear Old Nanna talking to Michael and telling him to be a good boy.  That could only end in Michael being naughty.  To avert naughtiness or any other disaster from her children was the end of Frances’s existence.

So she called Michael to come to her.  He came, running like a little dog, obediently.