t night it was still trying to cut
down the last line to the proper length without taking out any of what
it wanted to say.

That is what makes poetry so difficult.

CHAPTER 6. DOING GOOD

'We shan't be able to go anywhere on the carpet for a whole week,
though,' said Robert.

'And I'm glad of it,' said Jane, unexpectedly.

'Glad?' said Cyril; 'GLAD?'

It was breakfast-time, and mother's letter, telling them how they were
all going for Christmas to their aunt's at Lyndhurst, and how father and
mother would meet them there, having been read by every one, lay on the
table, drinking hot bacon-fat with one corner and eating marmalade with
the other.

'Yes, glad,' said Jane. 'I don't want any more things to happen
just now. I feel like you do when you've been to three parties in a
week--like we did at granny's once--and extras in between, toys and
chocs and things like that. I want everything to be just real, and no
fancy things happening at all.' 'I don't like being obliged to keep
things from mother,' said Anthea. 'I don't know why, but it makes me
feel selfish and mean.'

'If we could only get the mater to believe it, we might take her to the
jolliest places,' said Cyril, thoughtfully. 'As it is, we've just got to
be selfish and mean--if it is that--but I don't feel it is.'

'I KNOW it isn't, but I FEEL it is,' said Anthea, 'and that's just as
bad.'

'It's worse,' said Robert; 'if you knew it and didn't feel it, it
wouldn't matter so much.'

'That's being a hardened criminal, father says,' put in Cyril, and he
picked up mother's letter and wiped its corners with his handkerchief,
to whose colour a trifle of bacon-fat and marmalade made but little
difference.

'We're going to-morrow, anyhow,' said Robert. 'Don't,' he added, with
a good-boy expression on his face--'don't let's be ungrateful for our
blessings; don't let's waste the day in saying how horrid it is to keep
secrets from mother, when we all know Anthea tried all she knew to give
her the secret, and she wouldn't take it. Let's get on the carpet and
have a jolly good wish. You'll have time enough to repent of things all
next week.'

'Yes,' said Cyril, 'let's. It's not really wrong.'

'Well, look here,' said Anthea. 'You know there's something about
Christmas that makes you want to be good--however little you wish it at
other times. Couldn't we wish the carpet to take us somewhere where we
should have the chance to do some good and kind act