Part 36 (1/2)

”There was a matter of a couple of snares and some night lines,” he said slowly, drawing nearer to Mrs. Red House; ”but I couldn't take no money, of course.”

”Of course not,” she said; ”I beg your pardon for offering it. But I'll give you my name and address, and if ever I can be of any use to you----”

She turned her back on us while she wrote it down with a stumpy pencil he lent her; but Oswald could swear that he heard money c.h.i.n.k, and that there was something large and round wrapped up in the paper she gave him.

”Sorry for any little misunderstanding,” the Police now said, feeling the paper with his fingers; ”and my respects to you, miss, and your young friends. I'd best be going.”

And he went--to Sir James, I suppose. He seemed quite tamed. I hope the people who set the snares got off.

”So _that's_ all right,” said Mrs. Red House. ”Oh, you dear children, you must stay to lunch, and we'll have a splendid time.”

”What a darling Princess you are!” Noel said slowly. ”You are a witch Princess, too, with magic powers over the Police.”

”It's not a very pretty sort of magic,” she said, and she sighed.

”Everything about you is pretty,” said Noel. And I could see him beginning to make the faces that always precur his poetry-fits. But before the fit could break out thoroughly the rest of us awoke from our stupor of grateful safeness and began to dance round Mrs. Red House in a ring. And the girls sang--

”The rose is red, the violet's blue, Carnation's sweet, and so are you,”

over and over again, so we had to join in; though I think ”She's a jolly good fellow would have been more manly and less like a poetry book.”

Suddenly a known voice broke in on our singing.

”_Well!_” it said. And we stopped dancing. And there were the other two ladies who had politely walked off when we first discovered Mrs. Red House. And one of them was Mrs. Bax--of all people in the world! And she was smoking a cigarette. So now we knew where the smell of tobacco came from, in the White House.

We said, ”_Oh!_” in one breath, and were silent.

”Is it possible,” said Mrs. Bax, ”that these are the Sunday-school children I've been living with these three long days?”

”We're sorry,” said Dora, softly; ”we wouldn't have made a noise if we'd know you were here.”

”So I suppose,” said Mrs. Bax. ”Chloe, you seem to be a witch. How have you galvanised my six rag dolls into life like this?”

”Rag dolls!” said H.O., before we could stop him. ”I think you're jolly mean and ungrateful; and it was sixpence for making the organs fly.”

”My brain's reeling,” said Mrs. Bax, putting her hands to her head.

”H.O. is very rude, and I am sorry,” said Alice, ”but it _is_ hard to be called rag dolls, when you've only tried to do as you were told.”

And then, in answer to Mrs. Red House's questions, we told how father had begged us to be quiet, and how we had earnestly tried to. When it was told, Mrs. Bax began to laugh, and so did Mrs. Red House, and at last Mrs. Bax said--

”Oh, my dears! you don't know how glad I am that you're really alive! I began to think--oh--I don't know what I thought! And you're not rag dolls. You're heroes and heroines, every man jack of you. And I do thank you. But I never wanted to be quiet like _that_. I just didn't want to be bothered with London and tiresome grown-up people. And now let's enjoy ourselves! Shall it be rounders, or stories about cannibals?”

”Rounders first and stories after,” said H.O. And it was so.

Mrs. Bax, now that her true nature was revealed, proved to be A1. The author does not ask for a jollier person to be in the house with. We had rare larks the whole time she stayed with us.

And to think that we might never have known her true character if she hadn't been an old school friend of Mrs. Red House's, and if Mrs. Red House hadn't been such a friend of ours!