ey agreed, on condition that
Anthea would not make any silly fuss about the burglary afterwards, if
it really had to come to that.

So they knocked and rang, and a scared-looking parlourmaid opened the
front door. While they were asking for Mrs Biddle they saw her. She was
in the dining-room, and she had already pushed back the table and spread
out the carpet to see how it looked on the floor.

'I knew she didn't want it for her servants' bedroom,' Jane muttered.

Anthea walked straight past the uncomfortable parlourmaid, and the
others followed her. Mrs Biddle had her back to them, and was smoothing
down the carpet with the same boot that had trampled on the hand
of Robert. So that they were all in the room, and Cyril, with great
presence of mind, had shut the room door before she saw them.

'Who is it, Jane?' she asked in a sour voice; and then turning suddenly,
she saw who it was. Once more her face grew violet--a deep, dark violet.
'You wicked daring little things!' she cried, 'how dare you come here?
At this time of night, too. Be off, or I'll send for the police.'

'Don't be angry,' said Anthea, soothingly, 'we only wanted to ask you
to let us have the carpet. We have quite twelve shillings between us,
and--'

'How DARE you?' cried Mrs Biddle, and her voice shook with angriness.

'You do look horrid,' said Jane suddenly.

Mrs Biddle actually stamped that booted foot of hers. 'You rude,
barefaced child!' she said.

Anthea almost shook Jane; but Jane pushed forward in spite of her.

'It really IS our nursery carpet,' she said, 'you ask ANY ONE if it
isn't.'

'Let's wish ourselves home,' said Cyril in a whisper.

'No go,' Robert whispered back, 'she'd be there too, and raving mad as
likely as not. Horrid thing, I hate her!'

'I wish Mrs Biddle was in an angelic good temper,' cried Anthea,
suddenly. 'It's worth trying,' she said to herself.

Mrs Biddle's face grew from purple to violet, and from violet to mauve,
and from mauve to pink. Then she smiled quite a jolly smile.

'Why, so I am!' she said, 'what a funny idea! Why shouldn't I be in a
good temper, my dears.'

Once more the carpet had done its work, and not on Mrs Biddle alone. The
children felt suddenly good and happy.

'You're a jolly good sort,' said Cyril. 'I see that now. I'm sorry we
vexed you at the bazaar to-day.'

'Not another word,' said the changed Mrs Biddle. 'Of course you shall
have the carpet, my dears, if you've taken such a