Dyke, himself, was a big-hearted, jovial man who spread an atmosphere of good-humour wherever he went.

In the evenings he played with Sidney like a big boy, an older brother, lying on the bed, or the sofa, taking her in his arms.

Between them they had invented a great game.

The ex-engineer, his boots removed, his huge legs in the air, hoisted the little tad on the soles of his stockinged feet like a circus acrobat, dandling her there, pretending he was about to let her fall.

Sidney, choking with delight, held on nervously, with little screams and chirps of excitement, while he shifted her gingerly from one foot to another, and thence, the final act, the great gallery play, to the palm of one great hand.