The Phoenix and the Carpet by E. Nesbit (best non fiction books of all time .TXT) 📕

and things; they’ll think we’ve gone along the roofs. Then, when all is calm, we’ll creep down the stairs and take our chance.”

They hastily hid. A corner of an iron bedstead stuck into Robert’s side, and Jane had only standing room for one foot⁠—but they bore it⁠—and when the lady came back, not with Septimus, but with another lady, they held their breath and their hearts beat thickly.

“Gone!” said the first lady; “poor little things⁠—quite mad, my dear⁠—and at large! We must lock this room and send for the police.”

“Let me look out,” said the second lady, who was, if possible, older and thinner and primmer than the first. So the two ladies dragged a box under the trap-door and put another box on the top of it, and then they both climbed up very carefully and put their two trim, tidy heads out of the trap-door to look for the “mad children.”

“Now,” whispered Robert, getting the bedstead leg out of his side.

They managed to creep out from their hiding-place and out through the door before the two ladies had done looking out of the trap-door on to the empty leads.

Robert and Jane tiptoed down the stairs⁠—one flight, two flights. Then they looked over the banisters. Horror! a servant was coming up with a loaded scuttle.

The children with one consent crept swiftly through the first open door.

The room was a study, calm and gentlemanly, with rows of books, a writing table, and a pair of embroidered slippers warming themselves in the fender. The children hid behind the window-curtains. As they passed the table they saw on it a missionary-box with its bottom label torn off, open and empty.

“Oh, how awful!” whispered Jane. “We shall never get away alive.”

“Hush!” said Robert, not a moment too soon, for there were steps on the stairs, and next instant the two ladies came into the room. They did not see the children, but they saw the empty missionary box.

“I knew it,” said one. “Selina, it was a gang. I was certain of it from the first. The children were not mad. They were sent to distract our attention while their confederates robbed the house.”

“I am afraid you are right,” said Selina; “and where are they now?”

“Downstairs, no doubt, collecting the silver milk-jug and sugar-basin and the punch-ladle that was Uncle Joe’s, and Aunt Jerusha’s teaspoons. I shall go down.”

“Oh, don’t be so rash and heroic,” said Selina. “Amelia, we must call the police from the window. Lock the door. I will⁠—I will⁠—”

The words ended in a yell as Selina, rushing to the window, came face to face with the hidden children.

“Oh, don’t!” said Jane; “how can you be so unkind? We aren’t burglars, and we haven’t any gang, and we didn’t open your missionary-box. We opened our own once, but we didn’t have to use the money, so our consciences made us put it back and⁠—Don’t! Oh, I wish you wouldn’t⁠—”

Miss Selina had seized Jane and Miss Amelia captured Robert. The children found themselves held fast by strong, slim hands, pink at the wrists and white at the knuckles.

“We’ve got you, at any rate,” said Miss Amelia. “Selina, your captive is smaller than mine. You open the window at once and call ‘Murder!’ as loud as you can.

Selina obeyed; but when she had opened the window, instead of calling “Murder!” she called “Septimus!” because at that very moment she saw her nephew coming in at the gate.

In another minute he had let himself in with his latchkey and had mounted the stairs. As he came into the room Jane and Robert each uttered a shriek of joy so loud and so sudden that the ladies leaped with surprise, and nearly let them go.

“It’s our own clergyman,” cried Jane.

“Don’t you remember us?” asked Robert. “You married our burglar for us⁠—don’t you remember?”

“I knew it was a gang,” said Amelia. “Septimus, these abandoned children are members of a desperate burgling gang who are robbing the house. They have already forced the missionary-box and purloined its contents.”

The Reverend Septimus passed his hand wearily over his brow.

“I feel a little faint,” he said, “running upstairs so quickly.”

“We never touched the beastly box,” said Robert.

“Then your confederates did,” said Miss Selina.

“No, no,” said the curate, hastily. “I opened the box myself. This morning I found I had not enough small change for the Mothers’ Independent Unity Measles and Croup Insurance payments. I suppose this is not a dream, is it?”

“Dream? No, indeed. Search the house. I insist upon it.”

The curate, still pale and trembling, searched the house, which, of course, was blamelessly free of burglars.

When he came back he sank wearily into his chair.

“Aren’t you going to let us go?” asked Robert, with furious indignation, for there is something in being held by a strong lady that sets the blood of a boy boiling in his veins with anger and despair. “We’ve never done anything to you. It’s all the carpet. It dropped us on the leads. We couldn’t help it. You know how it carried you over to the island, and you had to marry the burglar to the cook.”

“Oh, my head!” said the curate.

“Never mind your head just now,” said Robert; “try to be honest and honourable, and do your duty in that state of life!”

“This is a judgement on me for something, I suppose,” said the Reverend Septimus, wearily, “but I really cannot at the moment remember what.”

“Send for the police,” said Miss Selina.

“Send for a doctor,” said the curate.

“Do you think they are mad, then,” said Miss Amelia.

“I think I am,” said the curate.

Jane had been crying ever since her capture. Now she said⁠—“You aren’t now, but perhaps you will be, if⁠—And it would serve you jolly well right, too.”

“Aunt Selina,” said the curate, “and Aunt Amelia, believe me, this is only an insane dream. You will realize it soon. It has happened to me before. But do not let us be unjust, even in a dream. Do not hold the children; they have done