Just reread this, which I hadn't picked up since I was a small child. I was interested to see if I still liked it.
The book is composed of three stories set somewhere in North Africa--not sure exactly where. Perhaps unsurprisingly for a book written in 1954, the first two stories, though charming, have a whiff of "thank goodness the white British people came with their Bibles and their knowledge". The stories are still lovely, and the indigenous children who are the main characters are beautifully well-drawn and fleshed out. However, the final story (about an old woman suffering with loneliness and struggling to get by) is unadulterated joy and light. I really enjoyed the book, but it was this final story that really made it for me.