ugh's nothing; you know I
often do get coughs at home, and they never hurt me. As long as you
bring me plenty to eat, and stay with me, I'll be all right."

The rest and food and home faces had done much already for her; her
face looked less pinched, and a little more wholesome colour was
creeping slowly into her cheeks.

Meg had an uncomfortable sense of responsibility, and the feeling that
she ought to tell someone was strong upon her; but she was overruled
by the others in the end.

"You couldn't be so mean, Meg," Judy had said warmly, when she
had implored to be allowed to tell Esther.

"Such a blab!" Bunty had added. "Such an awful sneak!" Pip had
said.

So Meg held her tongue, but was exceedingly unhappy.

CHAPTER XII

Swish, Swish!

On the fourth day of Judy's residence in the loft, Martha Tomlinson
remarked to her fellow-servant and sufferer, Bridget, that she
believed them blessed children were in a conspiracy to put her
"over the river."

Bridget's digestion was impaired that morning, and she merely
remarked that she supposed the dear little things only felt a desire
to see her in her proper place.

I should explain to you, perhaps, that "over the river" meant
Gladesville, which is Sydney's Colney Hatch.

Many things had led the unhappy Martha to a belief in this conspiracy.
For instance, when she went to make Pip's bed as usual one morning all
the bedclothes had gone. The white counterpane was spread smoothly
over the mattress, but there was absolutely no trace of the blankets,
sheets, and pillows. She hunted in every possible and impossible place,
questioned the children, and even applied to Esther, but the missing
things could not be found.

"There's a man in corduroy trousers hanging round here every night,"
Pip said, gloomily regarding his stripped bed. "I shouldn't wonder if
he had something to do with it."

Which suggestion was distinctly unkind, seeing the man in corduroy
trousers was Martha's most ardent and favoured admirer.

The next day the washing basin in Meg's room went, and after that a
chair from the nursery, and a strip of carpet from the top landing,
not to mention such small things as a teapot, a spirit-lamp, cups and
plates, half a horn, and a whole baking of gingerbread nuts.

The losses preyed upon Martha, for the things seemed to disappear
while the children were in bed; and though she suspected them, and
watched them continually, she could get no clea