er hand and
trampled on it with one foot, while with the other three she had walked
on a foot each of Robert, Cyril, and Jane.

Jane burst into tears. 'Oh, how much too horrid everything is!' she
cried. 'Come away. Let's go to bed and leave the horrid cats with the
hateful cow. Perhaps somebody will eat somebody else. And serve them
right.'

They did not go to bed, but they had a shivering council in the
drawing-room, which smelt of soot--and, indeed, a heap of this lay in
the fender. There had been no fire in the room since mother went
away, and all the chairs and tables were in the wrong places, and the
chrysanthemums were dead, and the water in the pot nearly dried up.
Anthea wrapped the embroidered woolly sofa blanket round Jane and
herself, while Robert and Cyril had a struggle, silent and brief, but
fierce, for the larger share of the fur hearthrug.

'It is most truly awful,' said Anthea, 'and I am so tired. Let's let the
cats loose.'

'And the cow, perhaps?' said Cyril. 'The police would find us at once.
That cow would stand at the gate and mew--I mean moo--to come in. And so
would the cats. No; I see quite well what we've got to do. We must
put them in baskets and leave them on people's doorsteps, like orphan
foundlings.'

'We've got three baskets, counting mother's work one,' said Jane
brightening.

'And there are nearly two hundred cats,' said Anthea, 'besides the
cow--and it would have to be a different-sized basket for her; and then
I don't know how you'd carry it, and you'd never find a doorstep big
enough to put it on. Except the church one--and--'

'Oh, well,' said Cyril, 'if you simply MAKE difficulties--'

'I'm with you,' said Robert. 'Don't fuss about the cow, Panther. It's
simply GOT to stay the night, and I'm sure I've read that the cow is a
remunerating creature, and that means it will sit still and think
for hours. The carpet can take it away in the morning. And as for the
baskets, we'll do them up in dusters, or pillow-cases, or bath-towels.
Come on, Squirrel. You girls can be out of it if you like.'

His tone was full of contempt, but Jane and Anthea were too tired and
desperate to care; even being 'out of it', which at other times they
could not have borne, now seemed quite a comfort. They snuggled down in
the sofa blanket, and Cyril threw the fur hearthrug over them.

'Ah, he said, 'that's all women are fit for--to keep safe and warm,
while the men do the work and run dangers and r