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abroad a fair amount.
    It seemed fantastic to me listening to her that any girl in this age and time could live this sheltered, confined existence. True, she went to parties and entertainments, but it might have been fifty years ago it seemed to me from the way she talked. There didn’t seem to be any intimacy, any fun! Her life was as different from mine as chalk from cheese. In a way it was fascinating to hear about it but it sounded stultifying to me.
    “You haven’t really got any friends of your own then?” I said, incredulously. “What about boyfriends?”
    “They’re chosen for me,” she said rather bitterly. “They’re deadly dull.”
    “It’s like being in prison,” I said.
    “That’s what it seems like.”
    “And really no friends of your own?”
    “I have now. I’ve got Greta.”
    “Who’s Greta?” I said.
    “She came first as an au pair —no, not quite that, perhaps. But anyway I’d had a French girl who lived with us for a year, for French, and then Greta came from Germany, for German. Greta was different. Everything was different once Greta came.”
    “You’re very fond of her?” I asked.
    “She helps me,” said Ellie. “She’s on my side. She arranges so that I can do things and go places. She’ll tell lies for me. I couldn’t have got away to come down to Gipsy’s Acre if it hadn’t been for Greta. She’s keeping me company and looking after me in London while my stepmother’s in Paris. I write two or three letters and if I go off anywhere Greta posts them every three or four days so that they have a London postmark.”
    “Why did you want to go down to Gipsy’s Acre though?” I asked. “What for?”
    She didn’t answer at once.
    “Greta and I arranged it,” she said. “She’s rather wonderful,” she went on. “She thinks of things, you know. She suggests ideas.”
    “What’s this Greta like?” I asked.
    “Oh, Greta’s beautiful,” she said. “Tall and blonde. She can do anything.”
    “I don’t think I’d like her,” I said.
    Ellie laughed.
    “Oh yes you would. I’m sure you would. She’s very clever, too.”
    “I don’t like clever girls,” I said. “And I don’t like tall blonde girls. I like small girls with hair like autumn leaves.”
    “I believe you’re jealous of Greta,” said Ellie.
    “Perhaps I am. You’re very fond of her, aren’t you?”
    “Yes, I am very fond of her. She’s made all the difference in my life.”
    “And it was she who suggested you went down there. Why, I wonder? There’s not much to see or do in that part of the world. I find it rather mysterious.”
    “It’s our secret,” said Ellie and looked embarrassed.
    “Yours and Greta’s? Tell me.”
    She shook her head. “I must have some secrets of my own,” she said.
    “Does your Greta know you’re meeting me?”
    “She knows I’m meeting someone. That’s all. She doesn’t ask questions. She knows I’m happy.”
    After that there was a week when I didn’t see Ellie. Her stepmother had come back from Paris, also someone whom she called Uncle Frank, and she explained almost casually that she was having a birthday, and that they were giving a big party for her in London.
    “I shan’t be able to get away,” she said. “Not for the next week. But after that—after that, it’ll be different.”
    “Why will it be different after that?”
    “I shall be able to do what I like then.”
    “With Greta’s help as usual?” I said.
    It used to make Ellie laugh the way I talked about Greta. She’d say, “You’re so silly to be jealous of her. One day you must meet her. You’ll like her.”
    “I don’t like bossy girls,” I said obstinately.
    “Why do you think she’s bossy?”
    “By the way you talk about her. She’s always busy arranging something.”
    “She’s very efficient,” said Ellie. “She arranges things very well. That’s why my stepmother relies on her so much.”
    I asked what her Uncle Frank was like.
    She said, “I