with that of the Madonna.
, Many happy returns of the day, Miss Friedman,' he said.
, Oh, goody!' She fell on the packages, trembling with excitement
while from the mass of fifty children who ringed them in the shrieking
continued unabated.
Storm demolished the wrappings in very short order, using her teeth
when her fingers were inadequate for the task. One of her small guests
attempted to assist her, but she flew at him like a panther kitten with
a cry of
'They're my presents! ' He retired hastily.
At last she sat in a litter of wrappings and dolls and pointed at the
single remaining package in Sean's hands.
'That one?' she asked.
Sean shook his head. 'No, that one is for your Mummy. But if you look
behind you, you might find something else. ' Mbejane, grinning widely,
was holding the Shedland. For seconds Storm was too overcome to speak
and then with a sound like a steam, whistle she flew to her feet.
Deserting her newly adopted children, she ran to the pony.
Behind her a flock of small girls descended on the dolls, vultures when
a lion leaves the kill.
'Lift me! Lift me!' Storm was hopping with delirious impatience.
Sean took her up and the warm, wriggling little body in his hands made
his heart flip again. Gently he set her on the saddle, handed her the
reins and led the pony towards the house.
A queen riding in state, followed by an army of her attendants, Storm
reached the upper terrace.
Ruth was standing beside the delicacy, laden trestle table with the
parents of Storm's guests. Sean handed the lead rein to Mbejane.
'Look after her well,' and he crossed the terrace, very conscious of
the many adult eyes upon him, thankful for the hour he had spent that
morning at the barber's shop, and for the care he had taken with his
attire, a brand, new suit of expensive English broadcloth, boots
burnished to gloss, solid gold watch a chain across his belly and a
white carnation in his buttonhole.
He stopped in front of Ruth and removed his hat. She held out her
hand, palm downwards. Sean knew that he was not expected to shake that
hand.
'Sean, how good of you to come.'
Sean took her hand. It was a measure of his feelings; that he bowed to
touch it with his lips, a gesture which he considered French, foppish
and undignified.
'It was good of you to ask me, Ruth.'
He produced the box from under his arm and held it out to her.
She opened it without a word and her cheeks flushed with pleasure when
she saw the long, stemmed roses it contained. .
'Oh, how sweet of you!' And Sean's heart did its trick again as she
smiled full into his eyes, then slipped her hand into the crook of his
arm.
'I'd like you to meet some friends of mine.
