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"
The
trouble
,
"
said
Bobbie
,
in
a
very
little
voice
--
"
I
promised
I
would
never
ask
you
any
questions
,
and
I
never
have
,
have
I
?
But
--
the
trouble
--
it
wo
n't
last
always
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
Mother
,
"
the
worst
will
be
over
when
Father
comes
home
to
us
.
"
"
I
wish
I
could
comfort
you
,
"
said
Bobbie
.
"
Oh
,
my
dear
,
do
you
suppose
you
do
n't
?
Do
you
think
I
have
n't
noticed
how
good
you
've
all
been
,
not
quarrelling
nearly
as
much
as
you
used
to
--
and
all
the
little
kind
things
you
do
for
me
--
the
flowers
,
and
cleaning
my
shoes
,
and
tearing
up
to
make
my
bed
before
I
get
time
to
do
it
myself
?
"
Bobbie
HAD
sometimes
wondered
whether
Mother
noticed
these
things
.
"
That
's
nothing
,
"
she
said
,
"
to
what
--
"
"
I
MUST
get
on
with
my
work
,
"
said
Mother
,
giving
Bobbie
one
last
squeeze
.
"
Do
n't
say
anything
to
the
others
.
"
That
evening
in
the
hour
before
bed-time
instead
of
reading
to
the
children
Mother
told
them
stories
of
the
games
she
and
Father
used
to
have
when
they
were
children
and
lived
near
each
other
in
the
country
--
tales
of
the
adventures
of
Father
with
Mother
's
brothers
when
they
were
all
boys
together
.
Very
funny
stories
they
were
,
and
the
children
laughed
as
they
listened
.
"
Uncle
Edward
died
before
he
was
grown
up
,
did
n't
he
?
"
said
Phyllis
,
as
Mother
lighted
the
bedroom
candles
.
"
Yes
,
dear
,
"
said
Mother
,
"
you
would
have
loved
him
.
