I hope you don’t mind my telling you a good deal about Roberta. The fact is I am growing very fond of her. The more I observe her the more I love her. And I notice all sorts of things about her that I like.

For instance, she was quite oddly anxious to make other people happy. And she could keep a secret, a tolerably rare accomplishment¹. Also she had the power of silent sympathy. That sounds rather dull, I know, but it’s not so dull as it sounds. It just means that a person is able to know that you are unhappy, and to love you extra on that account, without bothering you by telling you all the time how sorry she is for you. That was what Bobbie was like. She knew that Mother was unhappy — and that Mother had not told her the reason. So she just loved Mother more and never said a single word that could let Mother know how earnestly her little girl wondered what Mother was unhappy about. This needs practice. It is not so easy as you might think.

Whatever happened — and all sorts of nice, pleasant ordinary things happened — such as picnics, games, and buns for tea, Bobbie always had these thoughts at the back of her mind. “Mother’s unhappy. Why? I don’t know. She doesn’t want me to know. I won’t try to find out. But she IS unhappy. Why? I don’t know. She doesn’t —” and so on, repeating and repeating like a tune² that you don’t know the stopping part of.

The Russian gentleman still took up a good deal of everybody’s thoughts. All the editors and secretaries of Societies and Members of Parliament had answered Mother’s letters as politely as they knew how; but none of them could tell where the wife and children of Mr. Szezcpansky would be likely to be. (Did I tell you that the Russian’s very Russian name was that?)

Bobbie had another quality which you will hear differently described by different people. Some of them call it interfering³ in other people’s business — and some call it “helping⁴ lame⁵ dogs over stiles,” and some call it “loving-kindness.” It just means trying to help people.

She racked her brains to think of some way of helping the Russian gentleman to find his wife and children. He had learned a few words of English now. He could say “Good morning,” and “Good night,” and “Please,” and “Thank you,” and “Pretty,” when the children brought him flowers, and “Ver’ good,” when they asked him how he had slept.

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