to Miss Wilhelmina, Tommy.’ ‘How do you do?’ And then the child, overcome by his surroundings and more especially the grand old lady in front of him, buried his head in Daisy’s skirts. She bent down, lifting the small boy into her embrace, and when plump little arms wrapped themselves in a stranglehold round her neck and his face remained hidden, said apologetically, ‘He’s shy, ma’am.’ ‘Too shy to try a piece of coconut ice?’ One eye peeped at her. Coconut ice was one of Miss Wilhelmina’s little indulgences and the old lady often sent a bag to Daisy’s grandmother after the girl had told her Nellie had a sweet tooth. Several pieces always found their way into Tommy’s willing mouth and the child had developed a passion for the sweets. ‘Do you prefer pink, white or brown, Tommy?’ Wilhelmina asked as the little boy twisted round in Daisy’s arms to stare down at the large tin full of coconut ice the old lady was holding out. Gladys always coloured a third of the mixture with pink food colouring, and another third with coffee essence to give a Neapolitan effect. Daisy crouched down with Tommy on her lap now, and as the little boy said, ‘Brown,’ murmured reprovingly, ‘Brown, please, ma’am.’ ‘Brown please, ma’am,’ the childish treble repeated. Wilhelmina smiled.
