She was quite close to them.
She was not really a little black girl.

She was shabby and not very clean, and she had been crying so much that you could hardly see, through the narrow chink between her swollen lids, how very blue her eyes were.

It was her dress that was black, and it was too big and too long for her, and she wore a speckled black-ribboned sailor hat that would have fitted a much bigger head than her little flaxen one.

And she stood looking at the children and sniffing.
'Oh, dear!' said Anthea, jumping up.

'Whatever is the matter ?' She put her hand on the little girl's arm.