g a cheery farewell with his neat umbrella, the good and
high-hatted uncle passed away, leaving Cyril and Anthea to exchange
eloquent glances over the shining golden sovereign that lay in Cyril's
hand.

'Well!' said Anthea.

'Well!' said Cyril.

'Well!' said the Phoenix.

'Good old carpet!' said Cyril, joyously.

'It WAS clever of it--so adequate and yet so simple,' said the Phoenix,
with calm approval.

'Oh, come on home and let's mend the carpet. I am a beast. I'd forgotten
the others just for a minute,' said the conscience-stricken Anthea.

They unrolled the carpet quickly and slyly--they did not want to attract
public attention--and the moment their feet were on the carpet Anthea
wished to be at home, and instantly they were.

The kindness of their excellent uncle had made it unnecessary for them
to go to such extremes as Cyril's Etons or Anthea's Sunday jacket for
the patching of the carpet.

Anthea set to work at once to draw the edges of the broken darn
together, and Cyril hastily went out and bought a large piece of the
marble-patterned American oil-cloth which careful house-wives use to
cover dressers and kitchen tables. It was the strongest thing he could
think of.

Then they set to work to line the carpet throughout with the oil-cloth.
The nursery felt very odd and empty without the others, and Cyril did
not feel so sure as he had done about their being able to 'tram it'
home. So he tried to help Anthea, which was very good of him, but not
much use to her.

The Phoenix watched them for a time, but it was plainly growing more and
more restless. It fluffed up its splendid feathers, and stood first on
one gilded claw and then on the other, and at last it said--

'I can bear it no longer. This suspense! My Robert--who set my egg to
hatch--in the bosom of whose Norfolk raiment I have nestled so often and
so pleasantly! I think, if you'll excuse me--'

'Yes--DO,' cried Anthea, 'I wish we'd thought of asking you before.'

Cyril opened the window. The Phoenix flapped its sunbright wings and
vanished.

'So THAT'S all right,' said Cyril, taking up his needle and instantly
pricking his hand in a new place.

Of course I know that what you have really wanted to know about all this
time is not what Anthea and Cyril did, but what happened to Jane and
Robert after they fell through the carpet on to the leads of the house
which was called number 705, Amersham Road.

But I had to tell you the other fir