“Not to sleep in, Jon. Who let it in? Did you draw the curtains?”

“I wanted to see the time; I⁠—I looked out, I⁠—I heard you playing, Mum; I⁠—I ate my macaroon.” But he was growing slowly comforted; and the instinct to excuse his fear revived within him.

“Mother Lee went round in me and got all fiery,” he mumbled.

“Well, Jon, what can you expect if you eat macaroons after you’ve gone to bed?”

“Only one, Mum; it made the music ever so more beautiful. I was waiting for you⁠—I nearly thought it was tomorrow.”

“My ducky, it’s only just eleven now.”

Little Jon was silent, rubbing his nose on her neck.

“Mum, is Daddy in your room?”