I've just re-read this book and was charmed by its innocence but surprised by a couple of things. Though the edition I have is from 1970 it was first published in 1947 and times have certainly changed.
The main character, Tamzin, is the daughter of an impoverished vicar and his pretty-well-perfect wife. Tamzin has a little brother, a toddler called Diccon, who has a passion for salt. Yes, salt. And he's allowed it in little heaps. Tamzin discusses it with her mother.
"Funny how he likes salt so much, isn't it? Do you suppose it's very bad for him?"
"Not very I should think. Might do more harm to forbid it."
A bit later in the book an old friend of Tamzin's mother comes to visit and she asks if she may smoke in the house. Her smoking fascinates Diccon especially when she blows smoke rings for him. 'She was bullied and coaxed into smoking three cigarettes in succession, and then declared herself beaten.'
At this point the vicar says to his wife, "Gwenda my dear I can see we shall have to adopt this habit ourselves."
It's still a delightful book and the grammar is excellent! Best of all there's not a vampire in sight.