"Nothing of the kind," said Bill loftily. "You know quite well that Mrs. Evans is always in tears when I sing the solo bit in We Three Kings of Orient Are."
"Yes, well, Bill, old boy," said Midge, patting him gently on the shoulder, "don't let's go into why Mrs. Evans is in tears."
"Shall I sing now?" said Susan diplomatically.
"Yes, do, darling," said Aunt Lucy, rather absently, "that would be very nice."
"The Holly and the Ivy," sang Susan quaveringly, "when they are both full-grown."
"Okay, okay," interrrupted her judges. "It might not get you to the Albert Hall, but you're in tune. You may sing." Susan was suitably and humbly grateful.
"Come on," said Charlotte, "it's time we were going-"
Susan thought that she would never forget the first time she went carol-singing. In the cold frosty evening they tramped happily from house to house; stars glittered in the sky, Christmas trees glittered in the windows as they passed; the lamps hanging outside the pretty doorways shone on their young, serious faces as they sang; Bill's treble, piercingly sweet, rang out in the solo parts. And it was quite true, Mrs. Evans was rather dewy-eyed, and put five shillings in the box.
From SUSAN PULLS THE STRINGS, Chapter 3, A Hint Unheeded. Few readers could have known at the time, but Jane Shaw actually wrote herself into the story. In 1938 she married Robert Evans. So, there really was a Mrs. Evans living in Wichwood Village!
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