When she had finished her delicious supper and gone back to the hall she found it empty, but candlelight shining from beneath the parlour door told her where she would find everybody. And there they all four were, Wiggins and Serena sleeping before the fire and Sir Benjamin and Miss Heliotrope beside them, seated one on each side of the small table that usually stood against the wall with the chessmen and workbox upon it. … Those frozen chessmen were being used again at last.
At hard times, there’s nothing for it but to read children’s books and retreat. Coming out of the dip I can read poetry, and higher up the slope toward the peak are new books, travel writing and non-fiction, heading slowly towards biography and classic novels. Sometimes, however, you just need the book equivalent of cream on your porridge, and a hug the first day you get out of bed from the flu, and for that I read this: