She held out her right hand at once, unclenched her fingers and disclosed a thimble. He looked at it and then into her face.
‘Why did you hide that from me?’ he asked. ‘There was no need.’
She gave him a faint secretive smile – that new smile of hers – before replying.
‘We were playing with it. I didn’t want you to know.’
‘You were playing with it, you mean. And why didn’t you want me to know?’
‘About them. Because I thought you wouldn’t understand. You don’t understand.’
He saw that it was useless to affect anger or show impatience. He spoke to her gently, even with an attempt at displaying sympathy.
‘Who are “they”?’ he asked.
‘They’re just them. Other girls.’
‘I see. And they come and play with you, do they? And they run away whenever I’m about because they don’t like me. Is that it?’
She shook her head.
‘It isn’t that they don’t like you. I think they like everybody. But they’re so shy. They were shy of me for a long, long time. I knew they were there, but it was weeks and weeks before they’d come and play with me. It was weeks before I even saw them.’
‘Yes? Well, what are they like?’
‘Oh, they’re just girls. And they’re awfully, awfully nice. Some are a bit older than me and some are a bit younger. And they don’t dress like other girls you see today. They’re in white with longer skirts and they wear sashes.’
Everton inclined his head gravely. ‘She got that out of the illustrations in books in the library,’ he reflected.
‘You don’t happen to know their names, I suppose?’ he asked, hoping that no quizzical note in his voice rang through the casual but sincere tone which he intended.
‘Oh, yes. There’s Mary Hewitt – I think I love her best of all – and Elsie Power and –’
‘How many of them altogether?’
‘Seven. It’s just a nice number. And this is the schoolroom where we play games. I love games. I wish I’d learned to play games before.’
‘And you’ve been playing with the thimble?’
‘Yes. Hunt-the-thimble they call it. One of us hides it, and then the rest of us try to find it, and the one who finds it hides it again.’
‘You mean you hide it yourself, and then go and find it.’
The smile left her face at once, and the look in her eyes warned him that she was done with confidences.
‘Ah!’ she exclaimed. ‘You don’t understand after all. I somehow knew you wouldn’t.’
Everton, however, thought he did. His face wore a sudden smile of relief.
‘Well, never mind,’ he said. ‘But I shouldn’t play too much if I were you.’
With that he left her. But curiosity tempted him, not in vain, to linger and listen for a moment on the other side of the door which he had closed behind him. He heard Monica whisper:
‘Mary! Elsie! Come on. It’s all right. He’s gone now.’
At an answering whisper, very unlike Monica’s, he started violently and then found himself grinning at his own discomfiture. It was natural that Monica, playing many parts, should try to change her voice with every character. He went downstairs sunk in a brown study which brought him to certain interesting conclusions. A little later, he communicated these to Miss Gribbin.
‘I’ve discovered the cause of the change in Monica. She’s invented for herself some imaginary friends – other little girls, of course.’
Miss Gribbin started slightly and looked up from the newspaper which she had been reading.
‘Really?’ she exclaimed. ‘Isn’t that rather an unhealthy sign?’
‘No, I should say not. Having imaginary friends is quite a common symptom of childhood, especially among young girls. I remember my sister used to have one, and was very angry when none of the rest of us would take the matter seriously. In Monica’s case I should say it was perfectly normal – normal, but interesting. She must have inherited an imagination from that father of hers, with the result that she has seven imaginary friends, all properly named, if you please. You see, being lonely, and having no friends of her own age, she would naturally invent more than one “friend”. They are all nicely and primly dressed, I must tell you, out of Victorian books which she has found in the library.’
‘It can’t be healthy,’ said Miss Gribbin, pursing her lips. ‘And I can’t understand how she has learned certain expressions and a certain style of talking and games –’
‘All out of books. And pretends to herself that “they” have taught her. But the most interesting part of the affair is this: it’s given me my first practical experience of telepathy, of the existence of which I have hitherto been rather sceptical. Since Monica invented this new game, and before I was aware that she had done so, I have had at different times distinct impressions of there being a lot of little girls about the house.’
Miss Gribbin started and stared. Her lips parted as if she were about to speak, but it was as if she had changed her mind while framing the first word she had been about to utter.
‘Monica,’ he continued smiling, ‘invented these “friends”, and has been making me telepathically aware of them, too. I have lately been most concerned about the state of my nerves.’
Miss Gribbin jumped up as if in anger, but her brow was smooth and her mouth dropped at the corners.
‘Mr Everton,’ she said, ‘I wish you had not told me all this.’ Her lips worked. ‘You see,’ she added unsteadily, ‘I don’t believe in telepathy.’
Easter, which fell early that year, brought little Gladys Parslow home for the holidays to the Vicarage. The event was shortly afterwards signalized by a note from the Vicar to Everton, inviting him to send Monica down to have tea and play games with his little daughter on the following Wednesday.
The invitation was an annoyance and an embarrassment to Everton. Here was the disturbing
