Celia's House by D. E. Stevenson

Alice continued. “Really, I don’t know what I would have done without Becky. I haven’t felt quite so well this time, and it has been terribly dull for me.”
    â€œThis must be the last,” Humphrey said firmly.
    Alice nodded. “Yes, if it’s a girl, and I think it will be somehow. I’m sure this will be Celia.”
    Humphrey did not remind her that she had said exactly the same two years ago before Billy’s arrival upon the scene. Billy had been a disappointment—though not a very severe one, for, in her heart of hearts, Alice had wanted another son and there was plenty of time.
    â€œHow does Nannie like the idea of another baby?” Humphrey inquired as he helped himself to a scone and buttered it lavishly.
    â€œShe’s delighted; Nannie would like a new baby every year.”
    â€œGood Lord!”
    â€œBut five in the nursery is quite enough,” Alice added firmly.
    Humphrey did not answer that. He looked slightly uncomfortable and after a short hesitation he said, “Alice, you know Aunt Celia asked me to look after Joan.”
    â€œYes, and you have looked after her. You’ve done all you could, haven’t you? Nobody could have done more.”
    â€œI’ve just gotten a letter from Joan,” said Humphrey, and he took it out of his pocket and began to unfold it.
    â€œOh, goodness!” Alice exclaimed in great vexation. “Oh, goodness, I know what that means! You’ve never had a single letter from Joan that didn’t cause some sort of trouble. She’s in a fix, I suppose, and you’ve got to go south and see her. It’s always the way when you come home on leave, always .”
    â€œShe isn’t exactly in a fix this time,” said Humphrey, smiling. “The fact is she’s going to be married.”
    â€œMarried!”
    â€œYes, to an Indian Army officer.”
    â€œWhat a mercy,” said Alice. “We’ll send her a really fine wedding present, and that will be the end of it.”
    â€œWell, not quite, I’m afraid. You see she can’t very well take Debbie to India with her—”
    â€œHumphrey, you don’t mean…”
    â€œYes, I’m afraid so. You see, I feel responsible really. If we don’t offer to have Debbie, she would just be sent to Cousin Henrietta, which wouldn’t be at all suitable.”
    â€œShe’s the child’s grandmother.”
    â€œBut she’s getting old. It would be much better for the child to come here.”
    â€œIf Debbie is like her mother—” Alice began in horrified tones.
    â€œShe isn’t,” Humphrey said quickly. “She isn’t the least like Joan. She’s a funny, mousey little creature, very small and quiet. Oh, I know it’s a nuisance, Alice, and I’m awfully sorry to have to worry you just now, but I don’t see what else can be done.”
    â€œBut, Humphrey—”
    â€œWould one more child in the nursery make much difference?” Humphrey asked in a persuasive tone.
    Alice sighed. Men were so awfully queer; they didn’t understand. A strange child—probably very badly brought up—was to be dumped into her own well-ordered nursery and Humphrey thought it would not make much difference!
    â€œNannie would soon get her into shape,” said Humphrey, who was less blind than his wife imagined.
    Alice sighed again. She saw it was no use saying anything more. If Humphrey thought it was their duty to have the child, they must have her and make the best of it.
    â€œThe children have grown,” Humphrey said after a short silence. “They’re all very nice looking, but Joyce is the beauty of the family.”
    â€œEdith is pretty too,” Alice said quickly. “Edith is really the prettiest. She has such a lovely complexion and her hair is beautifully curly. You can’t judge Edith properly at the moment because of her teeth—no child