LITMIR.BIZ

      The carpet seemed to awaken to new energy as soon as it had got rid of their weight, and it rose high in the air. The others lay down flat and peeped over the edge of the rising carpet.

      ‘Are you hurt?’ cried Cyril, and Robert shouted ‘No,’ and next moment the carpet had sped away, and Jane and Robert were hidden from the sight of the others by a stack of smoky chimneys.

      ‘Oh, how awful!’ said Anthea.

      ‘It might have been worse,’ said the Phoenix. ‘What would have been the sentiments of the survivors if that darn had given way when we were crossing the river?’

      ‘Yes, there’s that,’ said Cyril, recovering himself. ‘They’ll be all right. They’ll howl till someone gets them down, or drop tiles into the front garden to attract attention of passers-by. Bobs has got my one-and-fivepence – lucky you forgot to mend that hole in my pocket, Panther, or he wouldn’t have had it. They can tram it home.’

      But Anthea would not be comforted.

      ‘It’s all my fault,’ she said. ‘I knew the proper way to darn, and I didn’t do it. It’s all my fault. Let’s go home and patch the carpet with your Etons – something really strong – and send it to fetch them.’

      ‘All right,’ said Cyril; ‘but your Sunday jacket is stronger than my Etons. We must just chuck Mother’s present, that’s all. I wish—’

      ‘Stop!’ cried the Phoenix; ‘the carpet is dropping to earth.’

      And indeed it was.

      It sank swiftly, yet steadily, and landed on the pavement of the Deptford Road. It tipped a little as it landed, so that Cyril and Anthea naturally walked off it, and in an instant it had rolled itself up and hidden behind a gate-post. It did this so quickly that not a single person in the Deptford Road noticed it. The Phoenix rustled its way into the breast of Cyril’s coat, and almost at the same moment a well-known voice remarked:

      ‘Well, I never! What on earth are you doing here?’

      They were face to face with their pet uncle – their Uncle Reginald.

      ‘We did think of going to Greenwich Palace and talking about Nelson,’ said Cyril, telling as much of the truth as he thought his uncle could believe.

      ‘And where are the others?’ asked Uncle Reginald.

      ‘I don’t exactly know,’ Cyril replied, this time quite truthfully.

      ‘Well,’ said Uncle Reginald, ‘I must fly. I’ve a case in the County Court. That’s the worst of being a beastly solicitor. One can’t take the chances of life when one gets them. If only I could come with you to the Painted Hall and give you lunch at the “Ship” afterwards! But, alas! it may not be.’

      The uncle felt in his pocket.

      ‘I mustn’t enjoy myself,’ he said, ‘but that’s no reason why you shouldn’t. Here, divide this by four, and the product ought to give you some desired result. Take care of yourselves. Adieu.’

      And waving a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella, the good and high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril’s hand.

      ‘Well!’ said Anthea.

      ‘Well!’ said Cyril.

      ‘Well!’ said the Phoenix.

      ‘Good old carpet!’ said Cyril, joyously.

      ‘It was clever of it – so adequate and yet so simple,’ said the Phoenix, with calm approval.

      ‘Oh, come on home and let’s mend the carpet. I am a beast. I’d forgotten the others just for a minute,’ said the conscience-stricken Anthea.

      They unrolled the carpet quickly and slyly – they did not want to attract public attention – and the moment their feet were on the carpet Anthea wished to be at home, and instantly they were.

      The kindness of their excellent uncle had made it unnecessary for them to go to such extremes as Cyril’s Etons or Anthea’s Sunday jacket for the patching of the carpet.

      Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken darn together, and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the marble-patterned American oil-cloth which careful housewives use to cover dressers and kitchen tables. It was the strongest thing he could think of.

      Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oil-cloth. The nursery felt very odd and empty without the others, and Cyril did not feel so sure as he had done about their being able to ‘tram it’ home. So he tried to help Anthea, which was very good of him, but not much use to her.

      The Phoenix watched them for a time, but it was plainly growing more and more restless. It fluffed up its splendid feathers, and stood first on one gilded claw and then on the other, and at last it said:

      ‘I can bear it no longer. This suspense! My Robert – who set my egg to hatch – in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and so pleasantly! I think, if you’ll excuse me—’

      ‘Yes – do,’ cried Anthea, ‘I wish we’d thought of asking you before.’

      Cyril opened the window. The Phoenix flapped its sunbright wings and vanished.

      ‘So that’s all right,’ said Cyril, taking up his needle and instantly pricking his hand in a new place.

      Of course I know that what you have really wanted to know about all this time is not what Anthea and Cyril did, but what happened to Jane and Robert after they fell through the carpet on to the leads of the

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