A spasm of pity squeezed her heart. Poor little thing! She wished she'd
left a tiny piece of biscuit on the dressing-table. It was awful to think
of it not finding anything. What would it do?

"I can't think how they manage to live at all," she said slowly.

"Who?" demanded Josephine.

And Constantia said more loudly than she meant to, "Mice."

Josephine was furious. "Oh, what nonsense, Con!" she said. "What have
mice got to do with it? You're asleep."

"I don't think I am," said Constantia. She shut her eyes to make sure.
She was.

Josephine arched her spine, pulled up her knees, folded her arms so that
her fists came under her ears, and pressed her cheek hard against the
pillow.


Chapter 3.II.

Another thing which complicated matters was they had Nurse Andrews staying
on with them that week. It was their own fault; they had asked her. It
was Josephine's idea. On the morning--well, on the last morning, when the
doctor had gone, Josephine had said to Constantia, "Don't you think it
would be rather nice if we asked Nurse Andrews to stay on for a week as our
guest?"