res
crumpled and smeared. Then the fender was pulled away from the fire, and
the poker, tongs, and shovel strewed the ground, and somehow or other we
had managed to burn a little hole in the rug. There was a decidedly
burny smell in the room, which we ourselves had not noticed, but which,
it appeared, had reached Mrs. Partridge's nose in Uncle Geoff's bedroom
on the drawing-room floor, where, unfortunately, she had come to lay
away some linen. And she had really been seriously frightened, poor old
woman.

Being frightened makes some people cross, and finding out they have been
frightened for no reason makes some people _very_ cross. Mrs. Partridge
had arrived at being cross on her way up-stairs; when she opened the
nursery door and saw the confusion we had made, and heard our shouts of
laughter, she naturally became _very_ cross.

She came into the room and stood for a minute or two looking at us
without speaking. And in our wonder--for myself I can't say "fear," I
was too ready to be angry to be afraid, but poor Tom and Racey must have
been afraid, for they got down from their chairs and stood close beside
me, each holding me tightly--in our wonder as to what was going to
happen next, our merriment quickly died away. We waited without
speaking, looking up at the angry old woman with open-mouthed
astonishment. And at last she broke out.

"Oh, you naughty children, you naughty, naughty children," she said. "To
think of your daring to behave so after my kindness in sending you jam
for your tea, and the whole house upset to take you in. How dare you
behave so? Your poor uncle's nice furniture ruined, the carpet burnt to
pieces as any one can smell, and the house all but set on fire. Oh, you
naughty, _naughty_ children! Come away with me, sir," she said, making a
dive at Tom, who happened to be the nearest to her, "come away with me
that I may take you to your uncle and tell him what that naughty sister
of yours has put into your head--for that it's all her, I'm certain
sure."

Tom dodged behind me and avoided Mrs. Partridge's hand. When he found
himself at what he considered a safe distance he faced round upon her.

"Audrey isn't naughty, and you sha'n't say she is. None of us is
naughty--not just now any way. But if it was naughty to make toast, it
was me, and not Audrey, that thought of it first."

"You _impertinent_ boy," was all Mrs. Partridge could find breath to
say. But she did not try to catch Tom again, and