Uncle Jerry was starting home next morning; there was only to-day left to tell Luce and get her ready. — But when they did, it was the funniest thing: she didn’t cry at all, no, not one single drop. She just stood and gaped at them, with her mouth half open, looking more of a silly than ever. And she stopped like this — all day. Bowey said the shock had been too much for her, and she didn’t properly understand what was going on. And kept saying: “Cry, my poor lamb, cry, it’ll do you good.” Herself she cried like anything, while she was packing Luce’s things in one of Papa’s little old leather portmanteaux. But Luce didn’t seem to mind, and stood staring at her clothes as if she didn’t recognise them; till he couldn’t help it either, and went and hid, and howled and howled. But not even whe
