She had missed it so long that it almost startled her. 'There's
the eternal old magic, Mother; you're right. And if I had more of you
in me--more of the creative feminine--I should do better work, I'm
sure. You must give it to me.'
She kept her eyes upon her needles. The others, being unobservant
'mere men,' did not notice that the stitches she made must have
produced queer kind of stockings if continued. 'We'll be
collaborators,' Daddy added, in the tone of a boy building on the
sands at Margate.
'I will,' she said in a low voice, 'if only I know how.'
'Well,' he answered enthusiastically, looking from one to the other,
delighted to find an audience to whom he could talk of his new dream,
'you see, this is really a great jolly fairy-tale I'm trying to write.
I'm blessed if I know where the ideas come from, or how they pour into
me like this, but--anyhow it's a new experience, and I want to make
the most of it. I've never done imaginative work before, and--though
it is a bit fantastical, mean to keep in touch with reality and show
great truths that emerge from the commonest facts of life. The
critics, of course, will blame me for not giving 'em the banal thing
they expect from me, but what of that?' He was dreadfully reckless.
'I see,' said Mother, gazing open-mindedly into his face; 'but where
does _my_ help come in, please?'
She leaned back, half-sighing, half-smiling.
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