the letter-box slit. 'Your slaves have gone
a-merry-making. The latch of this portal is too stiff for my beak.
But at the side--the little window above the shelf whereon your bread
lies--it is not fastened.'

'Righto!' said Cyril.

And Anthea added, 'I wish you'd meet us there, dear Phoenix.'

The children crept round to the pantry window. It is at the side of the
house, and there is a green gate labelled 'Tradesmen's Entrance', which
is always kept bolted. But if you get one foot on the fence between you
and next door, and one on the handle of the gate, you are over before
you know where you are. This, at least, was the experience of Cyril and
Robert, and even, if the truth must be told, of Anthea and Jane. So in
almost no time all four were in the narrow gravelled passage that runs
between that house and the next.

Then Robert made a back, and Cyril hoisted himself up and got his
knicker-bockered knee on the concrete window-sill. He dived into the
pantry head first, as one dives into water, and his legs waved in the
air as he went, just as your legs do when you are first beginning
to learn to dive. The soles of his boots--squarish muddy
patches--disappeared.

'Give me a leg up,' said Robert to his sisters.

'No, you don't,' said Jane firmly. 'I'm not going to be left outside
here with just Anthea, and have something creep up behind us out of the
dark. Squirrel can go and open the back door.'

A light had sprung awake in the pantry. Cyril always said the Phoenix
turned the gas on with its beak, and lighted it with a waft of its wing;
but he was excited at the time, and perhaps he really did it himself
with matches, and then forgot all about it. He let the others in by the
back door. And when it had been bolted again the children went all over
the house and lighted every single gas-jet they could find. For they
couldn't help feeling that this was just the dark dreary winter's
evening when an armed burglar might easily be expected to appear at any
moment. There is nothing like light when you are afraid of burglars--or
of anything else, for that matter.

And when all the gas-jets were lighted it was quite clear that the
Phoenix had made no mistake, and that Eliza and cook were really out,
and that there was no one in the house except the four children, and the
Phoenix, and the carpet, and the blackbeetles who lived in the cupboards
on each side of the nursery fire-place. These last were very pleased
that the chi