LOLLY WILLOWES
has a fine Norman tower and a squint. The population is 227.' And quite close by on a hill there is a ruined windmill, and the nearest railway station is twelve miles off, and there is a farm called Scramble Through the Hedge . . ."
Henry thought it time to interrupt. "I suppose you don't expect us to believe all this."
"I know. It does seem almost too good to be true. But it is. I've read it in a guidebook, and seen it on a map."
"Well, all I can say is . . ."
"Henry! Henry!" said Caroline warningly. Henry did not say it. He threw the cushion out of his chair, glared at Laura, and turned away his head.
For some time Titus's attempts at speech had hovered above the tumult, like one holy appeasing dove loosed after the other. The last dove was luckier. It settled on Laura.
"How nice of you to have a donkey. Will it be a grey donkey, like Madam?"
"Do you remember dear Madam, then?"
"Of course I remember dear Madam. I can remember everything that happened to me when I was four. I rode in one pannier, and you,
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