ed.

'If only Alan were at home,' I heard her say. 'Oh dear! is it a
punishment to me for having made too much of the loss of that unlucky
brooch? It would seem less, far less than nothing, in comparison with
any harm to the children. Oh, if only Anne were less thoughtless and
impulsive, what a comfort it would be!'

And I must say, when I saw the poor, dear little thing-- I can't help
calling mums a little thing sometimes, though of course she's twice as
tall as I am, but she's so sweet and soft, and seems to need to be taken
care of--when I saw her, I say, so dreadfully upset, it was all I could
do not to feel _very_ angry with Anne; and yet, you understand, till I
could see with my own eyes that she and Serry were all right, I didn't
_dare_ to feel angry.

And all sorts of things began to come into my head, and I am sure they
were in mother's already. The one that seemed the plainest was that they
had been run over: the streets are not at all well lighted about where
we live; there are no shops, and the London gas is horribly dull. Still,
it wasn't likely that they'd both been run over and hurt so badly that
they couldn't speak to tell who they were or where they lived. There was
some comfort in that. But-- I looked at the library clock, which always
keeps good time: father sees to it himself--it was getting on for two
hours since they had been out! Where _could_ they be?

Suddenly there came a ring at the bell--rather a sharp ring--and as
Alfred flew to open the door, we heard the sort of little bustle that
there always is if it is a carriage or cab arriving--tiny clickings of
the harness and the coachman's voice. Yes, it was a carriage. We ran out
into the hall and saw a footman in a buff greatcoat standing on the
steps, up which came two little dark figures, who ran in past him. Then
the door was shut, the carriage drove off, and we saw that it was Anne
and Serry.

'Oh, children! oh, Anne!' cried mother. 'Where _have_ you been?'

And we all called out in different voice, '_Oh_, Anne! _oh_, Serry!'

But before she said anything else Anne rushed up to mother.

'Oh, mums, it _wasn't_ it after all. It was a star with a pearl in the
middle. I was _so_ disappointed!'

That shows how silly Anne is. She had planned, you know, to say nothing
about it to mother, and then she bursts out as if mums had sent her to
find out about it! Indeed, for that matter, it was only thanks to clever
little Maud that any of us kne