There is, in almost every house, one main concern.
When I look back, I see that in ours the main concern was Bettina. If she had been less sweet-natured, she would have been made intolerable.
But the great need of being loved kept Bettina lovable.
I cannot remember that we ever spent half a day away from each other, or away from our mother, until—but that is to come later.
I feel still the panic that fell on us after the excitement of seeing the good-natured Mrs. Reuter drive up in her motor-car—the first we had encountered at close quarters—a jarring, uncanny, evil-smelling apparition in our peaceful court. Mrs. Reuter leaned out and unfolded her dreadful errand—to invite us children to come and stay at her house in Brighton from Friday to Monday!
We stood there, blank, speechless.
Our mother, with a presence of mind for which we blessed her, said she could not spare us; she was not well; I was a famous little nurse.
Relief and pride rushed together. I could
