rought and
tea made. But no milk could be found--so every one had six lumps of
sugar to each cup instead. The things to eat, on the other hand, were
nicer than usual. The boys looked about very carefully, and found in
the pantry some cold tongue, bread, butter, cheese, and part of a cold
pudding--very much nicer than cook ever made when they were at home. And
in the kitchen cupboard was half a Christmassy cake, a pot of strawberry
jam, and about a pound of mixed candied fruit, with soft crumbly slabs
of delicious sugar in each cup of lemon, orange, or citron.

It was indeed, as Jane said, 'a banquet fit for an Arabian Knight.'

The Phoenix perched on Robert's chair, and listened kindly and
politely to all they had to tell it about their visit to Lyndhurst,
and underneath the table, by just stretching a toe down rather far, the
faithful carpet could be felt by all--even by Jane, whose legs were very
short.

'Your slaves will not return to-night,' said the Phoenix. 'They sleep
under the roof of the cook's stepmother's aunt, who is, I gather,
hostess to a large party to-night in honour of her husband's cousin's
sister-in-law's mother's ninetieth birthday.'

'I don't think they ought to have gone without leave,' said Anthea,
'however many relations they have, or however old they are; but I
suppose we ought to wash up.'

'It's not our business about the leave,' said Cyril, firmly, 'but I
simply won't wash up for them. We got it, and we'll clear it away; and
then we'll go somewhere on the carpet. It's not often we get a chance
of being out all night. We can go right away to the other side of the
equator, to the tropical climes, and see the sun rise over the great
Pacific Ocean.'

'Right you are,' said Robert. 'I always did want to see the Southern
Cross and the stars as big as gas-lamps.'

'DON'T go,' said Anthea, very earnestly, 'because I COULDN'T. I'm SURE
mother wouldn't like us to leave the house and I should hate to be left
here alone.'

'I'd stay with you,' said Jane loyally.

'I know you would,' said Anthea gratefully, 'but even with you I'd much
rather not.'

'Well,' said Cyril, trying to be kind and amiable, 'I don't want you to
do anything you think's wrong, BUT--'

He was silent; this silence said many things.

'I don't see,' Robert was beginning, when Anthea interrupted--

'I'm quite sure. Sometimes you just think a thing's wrong, and sometimes
you KNOW. And this is a KNOW time.'

The Phoenix t