And we're back! There's no denying that work on this story has slowed from the somewhat frantic pace it was keeping up previously, but I now have the ending plotted out and know where it's going.

As always thank you for all of your likes, faves, shares and kind reviews, they are some of what makes me keep coming back to this even in times where writing is difficult and tough going right now.

The party continues, both downstairs in the halls of Downton Abbey and upstairs in the Nursery...

Josie had privately decided that the party in the nursery was far more fun than the grown up affair downstairs. Miss Greyson's scrambled eggs were almost as good as Mrs Patmore's, and Miss Sybbie was a charming (if slightly bossy) hostess at the doll's tea table, doling out thimbles of tea into the fine china with a grace that even the Dowager Countess would have approved of. Miss Marigold was a nice little girl, full of giggles and with an insatiable appetite for playing snap and listening to stories. But if she was honest, even though he was a boy, she liked George best. And fortunately for Josie, he seemed to like her too.

Since the arrival of his own baby brother, not to mention his earlier years at Downton Abbey in the company of Miss Marigold, George had learned a lot about having patience with children younger than him. Donk and Mumma reminded him frequently that he would one day be the master of Downton Abbey, and that he should be kind and patient with all the people in his life, even if they were smaller and not so clever as he was. George had decided that his younger relations and friends were good practice for this future responsibility.

He was an open hearted boy, generous with his abundant possessions and gifts and very keen to be a good host, even if it was only for the party in the nursery. His newest friend and guest, Josie, while not even three in comparison to his grand old eight years of age, was not proving so dull or difficult as he had at first feared. In fact, she had as great a love for horses and ponies as he did, although she hadn't been able to ride one yet.

"I saw you and your pony today." Josie beamed, flattered to have the attention of her hero, the boy who had ridden his own pony across the fields, dressed just like a grown up. They were sat over in the nook beside the bookcase, a little corner filled with pillows just right for resting in with a good book.

"Did you see Miss Sybbie too? Her pony looks like this one..."

George pointed to a picture of a little dappled grey in the big picture book he had pulled down from the shelf, which was filled with glossy pictures of pretty horses and ponies.

"I've not seen a grey one before. All of Unca Bill's are brown."

"My pony is brown," said George proudly. "With a bit of white under his chin."

"What's he called?"

"Garnet. And Sybbie's is called Pearl. What are the horses on the farm called?"

"Unca Bill showed me one called Merrylegs. She's funny," Josie giggled into her mug of milk. "Mummy had a ride on him once."

"Do you want to ride a horse?"

"Yes... but Unca Bill says his horses are too big for me."

George had been to Yew Tree Farm before, to see the pigs with his Mumma. He remembered the horses being huge, far taller than his own pony, bigger even than his Mumma's horse Diamond, who was definitely too big for him to ride.

"Maybe you could have a ride on my horse."

Josie's face lit up. And then fell.

"What's the matter?"

"Mummy is having a baby soon. And once the baby is here we will go home to the hotel. There aren't any horses there."

Josie's little face looked so distraught that George felt personally responsible. He knew how hard it was to be separated from his own beloved horse when he lived in London with Mumma and went to school to study and be as clever as his Papa had been. But at least he knew that the horses were here, at home, to come and visit at Christmas and in the holidays.

"Don't cry Josie," he said anxiously, looking around in hurry for something to cheer his little guest up. His gaze lighted upon the last two chocolate biscuits on the plate at the table. Quickly, George scurried over to retrieve them, catching up a table napkin as well, just in case the tears started properly.

"Here..."

Josie gave him a brave smile, the sort that she normally saved for Daddy.

"I promise you can come and see my horse before you go home to your hotel."

"Really?"

"Really."

They ate their biscuits to seal the pact, wiping their mouths on the shared napkin.

"George? Could you come here for a moment please?"

George turned toward the door at the sound of his Mumma's voice, to see her stood with Miss Greyson, beckoning to him.

"Here Josie, you can look at the pictures, I'll go and see what Mumma wants..."