But somehow she knew that Essy wouldn't call.

She went on, passing her father's door at the stair head. It was shut.
She could hear him moving heavily within the room. On the other side
of the landing was the room over the study that she shared with Alice.

The door stood wide. Alice in her thin nightgown could be seen sitting
by the open window.

The nightgown, the small, slender body showing through, the hair,
platted for the night, in two pig-tails that hung forward, one over
each small breast, the tired face between the parted hair made Alice
look childlike and pathetic.

Gwendolen had a pang of compassion.

"Dear lamb," she said. "_That_ isn't any good. Fresh air won't do it.
You'd much better wait till Papa gets a cold. Then you can catch it."

"It'll be his fault anyway," said Alice. "Serve him jolly well right
if I get pneumonia."

"Pneumonia doesn't come to those who want it. I wonder what's wrong
with Essy."

Alice was tired and sullen. "You'd better ask Jim Greatorex," she
said.

"What do you mean, Ally?"