7 June

7 June 1920

2 Portland Villas, Hampstead - London

[. . .] "Oh one moment Charlie." And the little boy turns round & looks full at the Boss, & the Boss looks back into those candid innocent eyes. "You might you might tell Miss Wickens to come in to me in half an hour."
"Very good, Sir" says Charlie. And he is gone. But the Boss pours out his tea & the tea tastes wonderfully good. There is something especially crisp about the biscuits too & there's no doubt afternoon tea is refreshing - he's noticed it particularly lately.
It was extraordinary the difference one little boy made in the office. 'E couldn't be made more fuss of if 'e was a little dog, said the storeman. It's like aving a pet in the ouse, that's what it is. And he was right. To have someone who was always eager & merry & ready to play - someone to whom you could say silly things if you wanted to - someone who, if you did say a kind word, as good as jumped into the air for joy. But why wasn't he spoilt. That was what the typists couldn't understand. When everybody went out of their way to be nice, to be kind to him - when even the Boss made a favourite of him why didn't he become an odious little horror? Mystery ... However ...
One October afternoon, blustery, chill, with a drizzle of saltish rain

This story won't do. It is a silly story. [KM Notebooks, undated]